Nemo Melior Est
by gary loves sporks
Summary: And he feared, chronically, that they would descend from their divinity to triviality, to become friends, or lovers, that the significance she held as his enemy was diminishing every time he fell in love with her. To be anything less than her nemesis. . .
1. Chapter 1

This story does not pertain to Half Blood Prince or The Deathly Hallows. 

Author's Note: I started this fic a year ago next month. I wanted to finish it, release it chapter by chapter before the seventh book was released, for, as this is a DracoHermione fanfiction, I find the circumstances JK left for us at the end of book six displeasing.

_Nemo Melior Est_ is Latin for 'no one is better,' more or less. Equally important, _Nemo Melior Est _has the mnemonic 'enemy.' (N.M.E.)

You may not understand just yet, but I tend to prove the significance in the fact that Hermione and Draco are enemies- maybe even better off that way.

Feel free to give me a review telling me how often to update.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, any of JK's characters, or the title of this chapter, which belongs to Joyce Carol Oates.

Where are you going, Where have you been?

Rougher than his pillow, for sure.

It was almost a game to him, to guess where he was waking up this morning.

Sometimes he could remember her name, sometimes he could guess her family's income due to the quality of the bedding that was supposed to comfort his promised hangover.

He was pretty sure there was a beetle scurrying through his hair, possibly a hyperactive cricket.

Rolling his back onto what he was now sure was grass, he opened his eyes to the sky, trying to guess the time.

He was below a rotten old tree, a point of impact no lower than fifteen feet above him.

His hand groped for a broom beside him, and sure enough he grasped it, invincibly more protected than the cataclysmic tree that now shadowed his awakening.

He sat up, absorbing his not-so-welcoming surroundings.

A final glance up perfected his anger, it was midday and he had been passed out on the sidewalk of a suburban neighborhood he knew well, not awoken by any nearby curious pedestrian.

Even that would have been better than waking up and discovering his folly alone, when there was no one else to blame.

If one were to hold the fingerprint of a Malfoy against the left griffin (of _all _the things) of the gate of the abandoned estate not even four meters to his left, one would feel the tumultuous tug at their navel and be immediately transported to the Malfoy manor.

Elaborate, even for a scantily used shortcut.

If his father was sober then he would be scolded for leaving his precious DNA so vulnerable, so close to an access point.

That he didn't even _deserve_ his DNA, for all the pride that he was supposed to bring the family name.

As if hiding in your room is more honorable than crashing your broom into a tree at… three am?

No, the only shameful thing about Malfoy's accident was that this misfortune occurred because some drunken notion occurred to him that he should return home.

Walking in the opposite direction of the scolding griffins he discreetly miniaturized his broomstick and pocketed it, also giving a tug to his crotch, to which he did not care to be discreet. He could be arrested for carrying a fully functional flying broomstick but he had no reason to endure the itch of his balls.

He did not try to remember why he had been returning home at all, for this would prove him to be masochistic, a shameful identify of which he would not tolerate.

Where he had been last night should gladly remain another futile mystery.

What he had done, who he had been with, what kind of substance had he taken advantage of-for not even his father's own inhalants could take advantage of a Malfoy-were not be brought to mind, these acts so detrimental to his dignity.

It was his father that brought shame, and Draco would bring none to himself, should he help it.

For as long as he could retain his own dignity, Malfoy did not care for the pride he was supposed to inherit, for it was far more pleasantly arrogant to find pride in things he had actually accomplished.

The fact that he was a Malfoy should be seen as a hindrance, and his accomplishments should be seen as even more astonishing.

The number one girl in his class was from a middle class family, an only child, and a studious bookworm that had no life.

The fact that _he,_ Draco Malfoy, a playboy whose image does not profit from being a bookworm, could advance himself without effort was all he needed.

He did not excel because he was of noble or pure blood, or because it would bring laudatory terms to his father's vocabulary, but because he simply _was _Draco, he existed in their fucking world and why not make himself the better man?

Why not take advantage of his potential and beat Granger at her silly game?

Because _she_ tried, and he had other things to do, better things to absorb himself into.

Like the comforting throb of progressive nocturnalism, the ecstasy of good sex and the alcohol that, compromisingly, bored him.

He had no hope that, if he tried to live the way Granger did, he would stand a better chance at finding something, or superficially some_one,_ that interested him.

Granger was passionate about studying, a pastime that Malfoy could never endure.

He was better off waiting for his life's purpose to strike him, while she was busy striking her head against a wall with too many studies.

Of course he was aware of the fact that Hermione had no life, that she had not chosen a career or an interest, for surely there were too many things she was interested in.

Of course he was to know, it was his business to be aware of her success and her distress.

For despite not caring that he was not number one in his studies, a personal vendetta against Hermione Granger was the most interest he even received from his Hogwarts education.

Being her formal enemy was the only identity Malfoy could be sure of that attracted him.

Coming to the end of the street, Malfoy wanted to forget where he could go and close his eyes, spin, and point a direction, if it could only be that immaturely easy, to define his behavior for just one day by the point of a finger.

Instead he turned around, back towards his surely intoxicated father and the sedatives that would welcome him, bond them, quiet their screaming disgust of each other and their reflectively shameful behavior.

He had no need to feel in control, for there was no where he would want to go, at least not sober.


	2. Chapter 2

i wanted to get another chapter out, i couldnt resist.

I still dont own harry potter. I dont think, by the time you finish this fic, i ever will. dont sure me if im lax on repeating this.

* * *

Hermione dodged and rolled away from the prodding hand that nearly grabbed her thigh. Tangled into the sheets, her face was screwed up into frustration.

She shoved her face into the pillow, screaming protest.

Her mother gave up trying to wake her and walked out the door.

As soon as she heard her mother leave her room, Hermione stepped out of her bed, fully clothed…in last night's clothes, that is.

Hermione had only climbed through that window minutes before her mother came to wake her on her first day of school. Hermione grumbled to herself and stood up, stripping down to boxers and a tank top.

Hermione scowled into the mirror. Of course, there were the reasons she didn't want her mother to see her.

Many hiccies and love bites trailed down her neck, and all across her chest.

"His marks last longer than _he_ does." Grabbing her wand, she did her best to heal the marks, but with no luck. She was forced to conceal them, but they wouldn't heal under that spell. Disgruntled, Hermione moved to take a quick shower before getting dressed and heading down to breakfast.

Hermione, had, of course, been spending her last night out with her boyfriend, Kyle, who she flirted with innocently enough at summer camp and then promptly broke up with her to 'finish off the summer.'

After trying her best to remove the hiccies with the aid of magic, she looked at the outfit that had been placed out for her, courtesy of her mother.

A tiny white T-shirt with a hot-pink heart on the front, a matching _thong_, a hot pink mini denim skirt, and white flip flops.

Hermione grabbed an outfit similar to that she wore the night before, and quite the contrast with her mothers taste.

A navy blue tee, a big black hoodie, low rise Levi's and black sandals completed her ensemble along with a bandana over her curly wet hair. For the moment, her hair looked nice, with dark brown waves and natural highlights, but Hermione knew that the moment it dried, she would be back to her bushier-than-ever hairstyle. Still, the curls were nice while they lasted.

Sighing at her own tired reflection, Hermione got a good view of her tired eyes, emphasized by the dark skin underneath them. It hadn't been worth it, spending the night out with him.

She had hoped, somewhat, that by spending the night with someone she loved, the next day she would be ready to confront others that she loved, that had neglected her for a good part of the summer.

It wasn't all Harry and Ron's fault, they had just… forgotten?

It was a terrible way to describe their distance, but she had merely grown busy and introverted… she was sure they had felt the same.

Reaching under her bed, she pulled out her journal and jotted down a note about what Kyle had done… and a reflection of why she wasn't going to break revenge, for the most part her days spent with Kyle had been the best parts of her summer, just knowing he cared. Even if he faked it. She supposed he had faked it in the first place to get in her pants, and had made it his summer goal. Which was probably why, when she stopped him last night, he had so promptly broken it off.

So she was a virgin. She was in control of it. She had had opportunities to _lose_ it, she wasn't atrocious… but she liked being the good girl, in a way.

She had spent so many years building morals, she wasn't going to ignorantly break them now.

_Then explain what happened to your morals about 'best friends,' and staying out all night, and lying to your parents…_

Hermione frowned at herself in frustration, leaned over to the radio, turned on her Flaming Lips cd, and forgot that she wasn't perfect.

Proud of herself for not being upset about him breaking up with her, she munched on a Three Musketeers before moving out the door, feeling much better.

Hermione sauntered down the stairs. Today, the first day of school, her seventh year… Hermione felt a smile creep onto her face.

She was happy to go back. In the same sense that Harry loved Hogwarts, she knew it was her home. Here, in this house, were the people she loved, but at Hogwarts she was offered with so much more, more people, more opportunities…

She would see everything she had missed all summer.

Letters to Harry and Ron had never been returned, and she supposed she would enjoy having them in arms' reach, where neglecting each other was simply impossible.

Best friends were hard to keep up…

Shaking it off, Hermione grabbed her coffee and greeted her mother. But Hermione couldn't ignore the frown cast not in the direction of _her_ but the clothes she chose.

She sighed and put down the coffee.

"Yes mother?"

Her mother bit her lip. "I do wish you would do…something, dear. It's your first day back! Don't you want to make a nice impression?"

Hermione laughed, slightly cynical. "Mum, anyone who doesn't know me already, I'm not interested in knowing."

"Please, dear, for me…" Mrs. Granger put her hand over Hermione's own… and Hermione gave into the guilt trip.

Grumbling, she got up and kissed her mother on the cheek. "For you."

When she was back upstairs, Hermione faced the enemy…pink.

Sighing, Hermione decided she could at least get rid of the ridiculous heart. It was now a plain white t-shirt, even though much too tight and revealing for Hermione, who was now faced with the problem of making it so that the shirt was not so transparent to reveal her black bra, finally settling on changing into a white sports-bra.

Hermione contemplated the skirt- she didn't know where to start. But it seemed that every time she tried to make it longer or looser, it would rip apart at the seams. _'Fashion' wasn't meant to look good or be comfortable, or even worth your money_. Hermione thought bitterly as the split in the front split even more ludicrously higher accidentally.

When the horridly pink skirt was on, split repaired but altogether victoriously stretching across her legs Hermione was forced to cover something she really didn't care about. _Stupid revealing clothes_ she thought. Sighing, Hermione also placed a concealer charm on herself. So what if she gained weight. It was better than getting an eating disorder. Still, the concealer charm was not comfortable. It gave the feeling of a corset, and as weird as it sounds to have a corset against your thighs that's definitely how it felt. Hermione's flab was reduced to toned muscles, and Hermione scorned herself for going too far. So, to make it less extreme, she turned the weight into flat and skinny, the weight of a girl that didn't exercise but didn't overeat.

No, Hermione was perfectly happy with herself. Besides this rare occasion of wearing a skirt, it didn't matter, for she was within fifteen pounds of ideal weight. Still, she decided if she was going to do this to please her mother, she might as well do it right. She shrugged it off.

She gathered a few clothes and tossed them into her overlarge purse, which held her iPod, a book, and a few other necessities, including her emergency endorphins: a Hershey bar.

She faced the blasted mirror again. Refusing to mess with her hair much, she pulled it into a bun and continued to make her appearance…pleasant, as her mother would say. After some cheesy highlights and a fake tan, she continued her search.

Looking around, Hermione saw another thing her mother did her best to force upon her…makeup.

Removing the bags from under her eyes, Hermione used the horrid concealant to make her features softer, mascara and pink eye-shadow to make her more… feminine, if the outfit didn't do that already. Trying to avoid her reflection, Hermione made her way back downstairs.

Her mother beamed at her. "Thank you…" Mrs. Granger then pulled her daughter into a full on hug, crying.

"Mum, its only make-up." Hermione said.

"You're so grown up…"

Hermione scoffed. It had taken pink eye-shadow to show her mother she was an adult?

-

Hermione hugged her parents good bye, again, and made her way through the barrier. Hermione could have done out her whole summer differently. She could've stayed with Harry and Ron, seeing as how Hermione had been of age since about November. But Hermione knew that her parents had been heart-broken. And Hermione couldn't fathom the idea of ignoring all her schoolwork, even if it was for something more pleasing.

For it had been Ron and Hermione's idea to live at the Burrow with Harry, so as to save him from the Dursley's. They hadn't been upset when she said she wouldn't, for they knew that they would see her before too long, and that Hermione _did_ have parents that cared for her.

Besides, it would have been slightly odd at the Burrow. Ginny and her were the best of friends, and the rest of the Weasley's were her family… but Hermione was still left in the prospect of what to do about Ron, who, despite his constant cuddles, did not seem to believe they were a proper couple.

She made her way through the platform…it was awfully crowded, but everyone was ignoring her as she made her way towards the train.

Everyone was facing the train and shouting and… Suddenly Hermione looked at the clock. _Oh no!_ For the clock told the tale just as the whistle sung.

Hermione made her way through the many parents who, frankly, did not notice that she was trying to get aboard. The scarlet engine was moving along and Hermione did her best to catch up. How could she be late?

As the train went faster, heads poked out to see Hermione Granger, seventh year Gryffindor, the only female of the golden trio- and rumored Head girl, trying her best to run alongside the train.

_Damn flip-flops!_ She thought as they threatened to trip her again. Thinking fast, Hermione aimed her wand at the trunk that had been following her on the trolley. She aimed it through an open window and let go of the trolley, now only carrying her purse.

Suddenly she noticed boys whistling at her! _Whistling at her!!_ Hermione thought angrily. _Damn the sports-bra to hell!!_

Hermione nearly screamed. Here she was, trying not to get a bad start, and they were ignoring her struggle to mock her!

Suddenly Hermione stopped, there was no chance, the last of the compartments were gone and all that was left was the cargo and cabin where they burned the coal.

As soon as she stopped, however, two strong arms gripped her waist and under her arms.

Hermione shrieked as she was pulled upward onto a balcony at the end of the last car.

"Hi Harry." Hermione said breathlessly.

Harry Potter licked his lips, pushed up his glasses upon his nose, and crashed his lips onto hers.

As the train finally left the platform, Hermione could hear parents whistling and applauding.

As Harry pulled her waist towards his, Hermione could feel herself naturally pulling into him, as her conscience was pulling away.

_Well hello to you too…_

Her thoughts were interrupted as a stern voice awoke them from their stupor. Harry jumped, and Hermione would've, but was in a pretty deep daze at that moment.

Professor McGonagoll looked at them sternly but not unsmiling. "Come along, students."

Harry let Hermione pass before him, and he ran his hands through his hair. _His best friend's girl…_ was all that could pass through his head.

Only a foot in front of him, Hermione was also thinking about what had just happened. What on earth would they tell Ron? It was apparent that Ron had feelings for her, there was no way he couldn't…but it was also the matter that Ron was too nervous to do anything about it, and acted as if Hermione had no idea about it.

Just in front of _her_, Professor McGonagoll was deciding if this was worthy of gossiping along to the other professors. She was sure that they would get a kick out of it.


	3. Chapter 3

I love skipping school and zebra cakes.

I apologize for any distracting typos or grammatical errors in these chapters. Guess they're not so bad, considering no ones flamed me yet...or even reviewed...

I dont own Harry Potter, yada yada yada.

And I'm sorry if she comes off as wanting Harry in this chapter. She's confused and hey, just to let you know, hardly consistent in her heart's desire.

* * *

Surprisingly, they weren't reprimanded in any way, but dropped off at their compartment where Ron was waiting for them.

When he looked up and saw Hermione, he made to hug her but Harry spoke quickly.

"Hermione, I nearly forgot, can I speak to you?" Harry asked Hermione.

Hermione, getting aroused from her stupor, nodded silently and followed Harry out the door to the hallway, where students were still moving around to settle.

No one but Ron noticed as Harry shut the door in his face unintentionally.

It was rather cramped as Hermione was pushed up against Harry.

"Perhaps we should find another compartment?" She suggested.

Harry didn't seem to hear her as he ran a hand through his hair. Hermione gazed at that hand. The messy hair suited Harry's quiet face, accenting his green-…

_Gah_ thought Hermione. _This make-up must have some kind of endorphins. _She thought as she pulled Harry down the corridor to an empty compartment. _Maybe that's why sluts wear so much make-up; _she thought again as she pushed Harry down onto a cushion and sat herself beside him, staring pointedly at him, running the idea that he was her best friend through her head.

Once the idea was fixed into her head each time she glanced up at her newly transformed friend, she was able to speak calmly.

Harry had completely ignored her, and spent his time biting his lip and looking at the wood paneling on the other side of the cart.

"So, uhhh…" Hermione started weakly, uncharacteristically, clearing her throat and, finding comfort in being blunt, "why'd you kiss me?"

Harry glanced at her, puffed out his lips as he released air, pushed up his glasses and scratched his head, sending a confused-and-innocent smile at her.

"I don't… I don't really know, Hermione. I mean you're my best mate and all and… I guess it just felt right."

Hermione quirked her head, looked at his sincerely regretful eyes, and laughed to cover up the thought that-

_Regret? It's regret he feels? Nothing more?_

"So… what exactly did you want to talk about, Harry?" Hoping to change the subject but knowing it was most likely his focus anyways, Hermione smiled at Harry, trying to get to a comfortable point.

"Well," he said, tugging at a hole in his jeans, "it was pretty much that…."

"Well well well, if it isn't tweedle dee and tweedle dum."

_Tweedle dum?_

"Wow Malfoy, that was… creative."

"Well thanks for the lovely compliment…" His sarcasm dwindled as he searched for an insult to finish up the statement that Hermione wasn't paying attention to, only what he chose as an insult. _Don't say it, not now, not now…_ but he did."…Mudblood." he finished.

_Damnit._ Thought Hermione. She stood up, aiming her wand, and Malfoy was just as quick. "Ah ah ah, Granger."

"Don't do it." Came a whisper from beside her. Hermione's eyes flashed to Harry as he said this. But her attention was focused on the smirking blonde in front of her.

"Give me one good reason, Harry. Tell me why I shouldn't blast him to smithereens. He's a supporter of Voldemort, Harry, we all know it. No matter what bull-shitting he can pull off, no matter how many tears his mother can fake, no matter how much money his father will waste. Why should I pity him?"

"Ouch, Granger, that hurt." Draco feigned, a hand over his heart, and Hermione rolled her eyes, waiting for Harry to reply.

"Its not pity Hermione, I don't want him to hurt you or he'll get away with it again." Harry stated slowly.

Draco spoke up. "Too true, pot-head. It's nice to know you believe I can kick her pretty little ass."

Hermione was no longer angry. At least she didn't look it. No, Hermione Granger looked hurt. She turned to Harry. "Have you no faith in me?" she asked weakly before lowering her wand. Draco sneered but did the same, looking at the hurt on her face like it was Christmas, looking between the two for the next line, as if it was one of his mother's old soap operas.

Harry sighed and grabbed Hermione's arm. As he led her out of the room, Malfoy looked devastated that they decided to take it outside, and followed.

"Oh Granger, I think you and your lovebird need a few counseling classes." He sneered.

As weak as the insult was, its loud proclamation down the hallway was heard. In every direction doors opened and faces peered back at them, to see Potter and Granger standing very close together, and Draco looking absolutely enthralled. And after hearing what he said, many whispers were passed about the two Gryffindors as they hurried to stand apart.

Hermione just shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Shut up, ferret."

"Ooh, that's quite a vocablirary there, Granger." Shrieked the voice of Millicent Bulstrode, but her mistake in 'vocablirary' made the insult ironic and empty.

Turning away from Malfoy, Harry and Hermione made their way back to their own compartment.

Malfoy raised his wand, and muttered something.

Suddenly Hermione noticed her legs were cooler than normal. Looking down, she saw herself in that dreadful pink thong, revealing her backside and thighs to the whole train, which promptly burst into laughter. Hermione also noticed without much enthusiasm that Harry was revealed to be in…rubber ducky boxers…interesting.

Hermione turned, in anger, to the laughing platinum blonde in front of her and returned the spell, but not before muttering another incantation before it.

"Acclaro!" and Draco's pants were nowhere to be seen, but what you saw instead were a graying pair of tighty whities.

The laughter was so much louder when you're down the Gryffindor hallway.

Comfortable with herself, Hermione walked down the hallways without pitifully trying to cover herself. As Harry walked embarrassedly in front of her, Hermione received many thanks and congrats as well as pinches on the _butt_ for the short duel that had entertained them all so much. Ohh, that train would have a death toll if she could ever see the culprits.

Yet she reminded herself that learning a charm to transfigure Draco's boxers into briefs was not as pointless as she had thought.

When they were close to their compartment, Harry pulled into yet another compartment, naturally empty.

It was then Hermione remembered that Harry had wanted to talk to her.

Wondering what it was about, she sat across from him, doing her best to cover her legs and still look professional. She took out her wand and tried a few spells. But no matter what recovering spell she tried the horridly pink skirt did not return.

Harry, while also hoping she would find a spell to return their clothing, got a few glances at her. He was about to speak but the sight of Hermione pouting…in panties…was too much for him.

"_Finite Incantem_" Hermione tried for the millionth time.

She looked up to see Harry crash his mouth against hers. Although not in the mood, Hermione allowed his hands to slip around her neck, although when they moved she cleared her throat and motioned for him to sit besides her.

"What did you want to talk to me about, Harry." Hermione said, instantly changing the non-existent topic.

Harry sighed and sat across from her. Running a hand through his hair, Hermione realized she no longer felt mesmerized by that hand.

"Hermione it's about Ron."

Hermione perked up, if only slightly. She herself had been wondering what to do about the jealous red head.

Harry continued. "I don't think we can tell him."

Hermione was shocked. "You're going to hide this from him?"

Harry looked up at her for the first time. "Hide _what, _exactly?"

She just didn't quite understand. "Um, the fact that you happen to keep kissing me, Harry."

Harry was now the one to look confused. "Hermione it was a few kisses. It won't be anymore than that…and I don't think it will happen again." Harry looked at her with pity, which was _not_ something she was fond of. "Hermione, I'm sorry but…"

Hermione sighed but smiled wanly. "It's not a big deal… now, if you'll excuse me…"

Hermione transfigured the thong into a pair of jeans, which meant she was riding commando, but it was better than _that_ ridiculous thing.

Hermione didn't pay attention as Harry bid farewell and left the carriage. She didn't pay attention when the door to the compartment slid open. And she still wasn't paying attention when the blonde sneered at her.

Well, until he started talking.

"Ah, Mudblood got turned down. How surprising."

Hermione looked to him with only a blank stare, at a loss for words and expression. She was mildly amused to see that he was still in his tighty whities, even if somewhat covered by his cloak. He was _almost_ regal enough to pull it off, _almost_. Malfoy's smirk faltered as he felt awkward at her blatant expression. He coughed. "I'm only here, Granger, because you pushed your trunk so unceremoniously in my compartment as you were pathetically trying to catch the train." Draco sneered at the memory. "Quite a show. Anyways, I myself am surprised I bothered to bring it to you, but I wouldn't want a filthy Mudblood contaminating my compartment, you see. Its bad enough your possessions were in there."

Hermione took the trunk, still not speaking. Malfoy coughed again, and Hermione looked up, still blank.

"Did I hear a thank you." Finally, Hermione sneered in return, coming to her senses.

Taking her wand, she transfigured his tighty whities into a rather familiar hot-pink skirt. Draco looked down, angry. Raising his wand before even a top-notch witch like Hermione could stop him, he transfigured the jeans she had transfigured her thong into instead into graying granny panties.

"It's a fitting look for you, Mud-"

Hermione's wand focused on Malfoy's legs, and a quick spell waxed the hair off his legs.

Howling and red-faced, Draco turned his wand to her again, but she dodged the spell, Hermione sent another spell at him, which seemed to give his chest…breasts.

Fuming, Draco sent a very powerful spell at Hermione as she sent a spell to Draco which gave him makeup.

However, the victory of putting Malfoy in drag was short lived. The spell that Draco sent was a revealing spell. It undid all the curses upon Hermione's body and outfit. Perhaps he was hoping to return her into the thong. Little things like the bags under her eyes returning and her cheesy, cheesy highlights disappearing but there were many other things that Hermione would never want the pureblooded wizard in front of her to see.

The first thing that was removed was the curse on her clothing. The heart on her shirt popped back up, and her granny panties returned to a thong. But then the concealers were removed.

The hiccies on Hermione's neck were back. The illusion charms on her legs, stomach and arms were removed. At long last, charms were removed from her wrist Hermione had almost- _almost_ forgotten about.

In fourth year Hermione had been ultimately unhappy with herself. Even after the Yule Ball and her successful dates with Viktor Hermione felt empty and ugly. When Ron would yell at her Hermione would cry to no end. Back in her dormitory, when the other girls were asleep and Hermione was still crying, Hermione had cut herself. It happened many times that year. It wasn't until Viktor had made her promise not to that she had stopped. Viktor was constantly reassuring her she was beautiful, and Hermione just didn't believe him. But she knew she had to stop, it was eating him inside that he couldn't keep his girlfriend happy. Of course, being his girlfriend didn't last long. Luckily, though, Hermione hadn't been depressed when he broke up with her.

This was something in Hermione's past she had never revealed to anyone. In front of her, the young wizard was overwhelmed with what he was seeing.

Here was the Gryffindor Golden Girl in all her glory.

His eyes scanned past her body. The eyes sneered past the weight. They seemed to sharpen slightly when they saw the hiccies, and finally came to rest upon the scars upon her wrist. Kneeling beside her, Hermione tried to scramble away from him. Malfoy just stared at the many scars.

Draco's mind flashed. Visions of his own mother killing herself just as Hermione had attempted so long ago.

Draco sneered at her. "You selfish cow." He spoke to her in a deadly whisper.

This was not what Hermione had expected.

And it was not what the red-headed boy had expected to see either when he walked by the compartment. Seeing the love of your life, overweight and scared, hiccies on her neck and in a thong, laying beside your worst enemy, who happened to be in drag.

There were quite a few things Ron could've done at that moment, and for once in his life he stopped to think.

He could run in and hex Draco to oblivion. This would probably cause him to yell at Hermione, asking her what the fuck was wrong with her

He could pretend this never happened, no doubt causing himself to go insane

He could confront Hermione later

But, as luck would have it, he didn't have a choice. Malfoy came storming out of the cabin, shoving Ron to the ground. Fortunately Ron hadn't looked up or he would have noticed that Draco wasn't wearing anything beneath the skirt. Without stopping to insult him, Draco strode away from the setting rather quickly.

Hermione waited inside for Ron to yell. She stood up and covered herself with a spell which gave her a totally different outfit, which consisted of baggy jeans and a black t shirt with GIR on it.

"Hermione what the _hell_ was that about?" Ron didn't sound mad at all, on the contrary the slight unmanly break in his voice revealed to Hermione that her dear friend was in fact quite scared.

"I don't really know Ron."

Ron continued. "But I mean, why were you in here?"

Hermione sighed. "We were hexing each other, as I'm sure you were wondering why he was wearing a skirt," Ron nodded eagerly for her to continue.

But Hermione didn't continue. She just shrugged and squinted her eyes at him as if seeing him for the first time. She might as well have. Nothing unsuspected; shaggy hair, taller, maybe a little more built. How was she to know? But she smiled at him, because being a smiling girl will get you anything.

Ron smiled back and Hermione enveloped him in a hug.

The hug stopped Ron from asking about the hiccies.


	4. Chapter 4

These chapters keep getting longer…

I'm updating pretty much whenever. I want to see this story up here.

Maybe it'll motivate me to write in it.

Me no own, oh no no no, me no own no meow mix.

I don't own any of the references in this chapter, including the oh so subtle hint of JK's Harry Potter characters, plus some major invader zim stuff, some beautiful mind...

Malfoy's not nearly as interesting or mature as he was in the first chapter. To be honest the second chapter was originally the first, but it was so poorly and superficially written i felt the need to add something more... provocative.

The writing witnessed in the first chapter will be breached soon. Things are still casual and depthless, for now.

* * *

"…Head Girl Hermione Granger and Head Boy Draco Malfoy." 

Stand. Applause. Eat. How droll. This place couldn't get more annoying. Why anyone claps for that cow, I'll never know. Did I just rhyme? Wait… no I didn't… Anyways, of course Mudblood got Head Girl. It's the same initials as her name, duh.

I sat through the stupid sorting, that's more than they should expect from me.

After only a few minutes I'm striding out of the hall.

I'm almost to the dungeons staircase when I hear heels behind me. Shit. There's not a female in the world I could give a shit about right now, and I _doubt_ Snape pulled out the drag _this_ early.

"Mr. Malfoy you can't just _leave._" McGonagoll. This is going to be so much fun.

"Why not?" I answer dully. What am I suppose to do? Twirl my hair and apologize profusely? I don't think so. Your hair will fall out if you twirl it too much.

"Because she has to show us to our common room." What the hell. I turn around, knowing what I'll see. Well, it looks like she also fixed that stupid clothing situation. Pity, would have been funny to see her trying to explain _that_ one to McGonagoll.

"Greetings Granger." I sneer. Stupid bitch.

McGonagoll's giving me her best menopause face. "Mr. Malfoy if you'll care to follow we shall be at your rooms in time."

"In time for what?" I ask. Again, dully. I can't help it. It's more eloquent to sound disinterested.

McGonagoll opens her mouth a few times and then is content on glaring. Obviously there was nothing to be on time for. "Follow me."

Striding a few paces behind McGonagoll, Granger is suddenly next to me. I glare at her and she glares back, and action as natural for her as it is, I'm sure, for me.

"You didn't have to leave before I even got to eat, Malfoy." She hissed.

I scoff. "Like you can't afford to skip a few meals." Since I said it loudly, McGonagoll glares back at me- no correct that, _us_ and continues along the corridors. Hmmm, if she knows exactly why I said that, and has also noticed Muddy's weight, then perhaps I can torment her about it later. Tell her that her role model noticed it too…

Then again, McGonagoll could have just been pissy about me talking at all. We all know she plays favorites, and I'm sure as hell not one of them.

Granger looks scared shitless that McGonagoll glared at her, doesn't even pay attention to my insult, which wasn't bad. Haha, Granger's afraid of her future self.

"This is where I leave you. The password is _unpleasant_. With notice you may change it at any time. And we'll remember to tell your better half for you."

* * *

Malfoy glared at me. How predictable. He'd lock me out of the rooms in a heartbeat. 

Malfoy turned his sneer to me as McGonagoll left. He sarcastically perked and started- "Won't this be-"

"_Unpleasant." _ I stated dully and walked past the portrait of an angry monkey into- nothing.

I grabbed my eyes as I feel to floor, crouched, screaming.

Malfoy walked in from the dark corridor outside and laughed at me.

Squinting, I glared at him. Opening my eyes slowly, I tried to face it again.

Pure, blinding whiteness.

Jesus.

Seeing Malfoy was still chuckling, I sent one last "Fuck you" in his direction.

"_LANGUAGE_!" screeched a voice behind me.

I jumped, I swear nothing was there a second ago.

I front of me was an odd, glowing spork. Pretty big I might add. Facial structures carved into the actual ladle part, it was probably as tall as me. Which isn't much, but for a spork…

"What the hell are you?" Malfoy asked. Stupid purebred probably has never seen the almighty god of silverware before.

After a quick glare from the spork, "I am lord Volknor. I am here to assist you with your everyday problems and also to teach you how to work your dormitories. I am your instruction manual. I am all that is left of my people." 'Volknor' finished, sounding important.

Malfoy spurted out his response right away. "Your people were instruction manuals?"

Elbowing him in the ribs, I swept a bow before the 'Lord.'

"Only a mudblood would bow down to a spork…"

Sighing, I returned my position and the instruction manual began. "First, I would like you both to-"

"Two things, almighty glowing utensil," Malfoy began, "_We_ don't do anything together. Second, do you have a nickname or something?"

Glaring, Lord Volknor answered, then brightened with an answer to his question. "You may call me Link, as I hope to connect you two in as many ways as possible-"

"Just get on with it," sneered Malfoy. Sure does a lot of that.

Link continued for like the millionth time. "All you have to do is think. If you _think_ about a room with red curtains, you will _get_ a room with red curtains."

Silence. "We had to listen to a glowing spork for _that?_"

I don't even need to tell you who's speaking anymore.

"Come on Malfoy, let's start with the common room." Closing my eyes, I thought of the Gryffindor common room. Blazing fire, comfy couches, and of course, the Gryffindor colors. When I opened my eyes, I was greeted with what looked like a mix between my blazing fire and the Slytherin dungeons. Gee, who to blame.

"Malfoy, I'm not going to live in such a nasty place!"

He mimicked me. "_Malfoy, I'm not going to live in such a nasty place! _ Oh please Granger, I don't want to live with such a nasty mudblood… oh, damn that's redundant." Mock concern. Dumbass.

"Whatever, lets just think of something together then."

"Hells no, Granger! I'm not going to live with any of _your_ ideas, for all I know it will be full of happy little house elves!" Before I could even object he closed his eyes and it changed again. Cream couches and blue floors and walls. Whatever.

Walking towards a wall, I imagined a door to my room there. Opening said door, I was forced to deal with more blank whiteness.

_Think_.

Cream walls, black doors and trim, and a green carpet. The room was pretty big in itself. Knowing I wouldn't want to spend time in the common room with Malfoy, I added a fireplace with couches and chairs at one corner and a small black divider that separated it from my bed area, which was merely a large black canopy bed and green nightstands. Next, I gave my room a small bathroom, just a sink and toilet, separated by a more solid-looking black divider.

Then, the best part, after a moment of thinking, I had created another door. Well, no, the door isn't the best part. But behind it was a large library, wall to wall bookshelves, with one of those old timey ladders.

Happy, I gathered clothes from my trunk (which I miniaturized to fit in my pocket) and left for the prefects' bathroom.

* * *

Harry woke with a start. His scar was _killing_ him. 

_Ugh…_

Wait…

The dream came running back to him.

_He was walking through a portrait… surrounded by dungeon walls…he vaguely remembered a glowing spork…_

_And then…_

_Malfoy?!?!_

He shook it off.

_Not worth retelling, or even remembering._

_Merlin's Beard, I'm dreaming about Draco Malfoy and sporks…_

* * *

Ginny growled. 

Classes would be starting today…

Which meant she got to deal with the same losers as last year.

Groaning, she sat up from her bed around the same time as her dorm counterparts.

Strangling her hair into a pony tail, she slugged to the bathroom.

Shower.

Brush hair.

Brush teeth.

Clothes.

Then it's time for fooood.

Finally waking up after her morning routine, she walked from the bathroom to her dorm door.

Yawning, she followed her brain down the steps, running by pure memory of having done this a gazillion times before.

_Oomph._

Falling to the floor,Ginny was about to yell at whatever she ran into, whether it be male, female, or door- when she found herself face to face with the most adorable green eyed- curly haired- broad chested charming beauty she had ever laid eyes upon.

He rubbed his forehead and stood up quickly.

She gazed up at him, mouth tactlessly open, and he looked down at her, surprised.

"I'm sorry miss, did I happen to cause your fall?" his eyebrows knitted and he immediately held out his hand to her, which, with a blush, Ginny accepted and was pulled up to him… rather close, she noticed. Suddenly she wished she was wearing better deodorant.

"Ye-yeah, but its ok." She stammered.

Biting his lip (an action which made Ginny's knees a little less stable), he shook his head "No, no I'm so very sorry, I should've been more careful where I was walking… er, running." Ginny noticed a lilt in his voice, an accent…

"Its not your fault, I wasn't paying close attention either…"

"No, its my fault…"

"No its not."

"Well its not your own."

"Sure it is."

"No its not, no lady is as clumsy as I."

Ginny laughed, a loud, honest, belly laugh that certainly woke her up. "You have _no_ idea."

Her counterpart suddenly smiled. "Then _give_ me an idea. Let me apologize to you by taking you to dinner- this weekend, first Hogsmeade trip, Saturday afternoon."

Ginny blinked, surprised. "Are-are you asking _me out_? On a _date?"_

He bit his lip… _again. _"Please say there is not another, please say that fate has allowed me the pleasure of owing a terminally pretty lady dinner... And this time, _don't_ tell me she's a lesbian."

Ginny laughed again, and he smiled at her mirth, running a hand through his light brown locks.

"I'm only joking, m'lady. There was none before you."

Ginny stopped laughing, though not abruptly. She seemed to inspect his gaze for a moment, thinking over his offer.

"Well… Ok, but only because I could never pass up the fries at McEntee's."

He gasped.

Ginny raised an eyebrow.

"McEntee's… You… like… McEntee's…" He placed a hand over his heart. "Oh, this _is_ fate"

He turned to her and grasped her hand, getting down on bended knee.

Ginny only raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Miss, please, please give me the honor of consuming fat induced fries at McEntee's with you next Saturday night."

Ginny smiled, and picking up on his mannerisms, curtseyed slightly. "T'would be _my_ honor, m'lord. Now please, this talk of comestibles has made my yearning strong…" Ginny stopped, losing her grace. "Erm, for food, I'm not yearning for anything else…"

Blushing, Ginny made to leave, but he stopped her slightly.

"Before you leave for the consumption of a wonderful meal, do you have a name or should I just continue to call you 'Miss?'"

Ginny smiled a little. "Ginny."

He flashed her an amazingly charming smile and a wink. "Max. My friends call me Zeus."

* * *

_Today's the day, Ron, surprise her._

Ron dragged himself out of bed, knowing perfectly what day it really was.

_No, Ron, it's not the first day of school. It's just the perfect day to confront Hermione._

No it's not, she'll want to get ahead of her school work.

_Not if you get to her first…_

Ugh, get out of my head, I'll do it before breakfast then…

* * *

Hermione reached the Hall early, and sat down next to Neville, whom she promptly engaged in meaningless conversation about their summers. 

Helping herself to toast and marmalade, she reviewed her schedule.

And nearly spat it back out (erm, the toast, not the schedule…)

Classes with the Slytherins all day.

Transfiguration. Charms. Care of Magical Creatures. _Potions._ And double DADA.

Ugh. A packed schedule with a bunch of assholes…

Speaking of which, Hermione looked up to someone's eyes on her and saw Millicent Bulstrode practically glaring.

Hermione scowled back, and Millicent snaked her arm around Draco Malfoy, who sat next to her.

Hermione laughed loudly into the near empty hall as Draco jumped at the contact and spilt his porridge all over her shirt.

The pair of them looked up to see Mudblood Granger in hysterics.

* * *

Draco scowled. 

This day was not starting off well.

For one thing, he thought he had gotten rid of Millicent.

For another, he did _not_ appreciate getting laughed at by the Mudblood.

Thirdly, he didn't like Millicent trying to wipe off the nonexistent porridge on his trousers.

And, most importantly, he had noticed their schedule.

_Is this some bullshit stunt of Dumbledore's? Unity?_

_Ugh…_

* * *

Harry came into the Great Hall to see Hermione laughing hysterically. 

He waved his hand slightly in front of her face.

"…Hermione?"

Hermione looked up at him, and calmed slightly.

"Hey… good morning."

Harry grinned, still looking confused. "Morning… look, about yesterday…"

Hermione shook her head and smiled. "I don't know what happened, but, in the end, nothing happened, ok? I couldn't ever risk our friendship for something so… stupid… besides, you know me. I've got no time for boys, I would end up ignoring them so I could sit in my room and read."

Harry laughed. "I know you too well, Hermione."

Hermione smiled comfortably and hugged him. "You're not going to believe our schedules today…"

But Harry wasn't listening. He had drifted off into space… _Yea, just friends, that's what I wanted to say… didn't mean a thing at all, I guess…_

* * *

Ron stumbled into the Hall and came up to Harry and Hermione as Harry was drifting and Hermione was chattering endlessly about something with porridge and Malfoy… 

"…honestly Ron I don't think he's even listening to me."

"Maybe you should pants him and see if he wakes up."

Harry seemed to awake at this, and blushed deeply… _wow, he's pretty insecure._

"What did you say?" Harry asked.

_Maybe he was thinking about something inappropriate… heheh._

"Nothing important, Harry." Hermione said. _Damn, now she's blushing too._

She looked different today… Her hair was a little darker… Curlier though, it looked cute on her. She was wearing a creamy, pale orange sweater underneath her robes. _Stop looking there, Ron._

"Umm, Hermione could I talk to you for a minute?"

Hermione looked at him expectantly but kept silent. Finally she sighed. "I assume you mean in private?"

Ron nodded, turning slightly pink.

Harry looked down at his porridge and Hermione stood, and Ron followed her out of the hall.

- (still rons pov)

There was silence… _Say something Ron._

"Good morning Hermione."

Hermione raised her eyebrows in disbelief. "Good… morning Ronald."

_Oh, no, not the full first name… better say something soon, _Ronald

Ron smiled and scratched the back of his head… looked to the floor.

Hermione tilted her head… "Ron did you want to say something?"

_Maybe you could just hug her and tell her you love her…_

"Umm, so, about yesterday…"

"…yes?"

"Uh… why did you have those marks on your neck after being with Malfoy?"

_NO NO NO!!_

Hermione looked taken aback. "W-what?"

"Umm, I mean… did something happen?"

Hermione laughed uneasily. "With Malfoy? No, no no…"

More silence…

"Uhh, so what were they from?" He asked.

Hermione blinked slowly at him. "Ron you know that I was dating Kyle this summer…"

_She has a boyfriend? Nooo!... wait… did she say that in past tense?... _actually that's imperfect tense _Oh shut up!_

"_Was_ dating? What happened?"

Hermione finally seemed to show some emotion. She scoffed, "'It was fun and all, but I don't think this is working out.' Last day of the summer. Isn't he great?"

_Perfect opportunity Ron!_

Ron hugged Hermione quickly. "You deserve better. It's ok to cry, you can come to me whenever."

Hermione awkwardly wrapped her arms around Ron's torso. "Um, I think I'll be fine. Perhaps we should get back into the Great Hall before we miss any announcements."

Hermione ducked out of his embrace.

_Just tell her!_

But Hermione was already gone.


	5. Chapter 5

Do my eyes deceive me?

311 hits but no reviews?

hmmm...

A major character is introduced in this chapter. Judge him as you will, he will play a controversial character later on.

He's just about the only thing I own, so far.

* * *

Hermione snuck into her seat next to Harry just as the Headmaster cleared his throat. The simple gesture caused silence in the entire Great Hall, except for a few disrespectful Slytherin seventh years, who were immediately reprimanded by a gaze from Dumbledore.

"Attention, students. I do not mean to interrupt the most important meal of the day, as this _will_ start off your classes, but we have an announcement."

When he finished this, he gestured to Minerva, who was standing near the Great Hall entrance. She promptly went behind the doors and, after a moment, strode back into the Hall with a tall, rather handsome boy behind her that had longish brown curly hair.

_Not that Hermione noticed the 'handsome' part._

Hermione blushed and remained attentive.

But she noticed that some other girls, with less tact, happily sighed and giggled to each other.

He seemed to hear them, and smile charmingly at them, but still looked nervous. The latter caused even more lusting than his appearance, ridiculously enough.

His eyes scanned the Gryffindor table, at which many girls smiled or waved. At one point he stopped, even stopped walking, as something caught his eyes.

Hermione slighted her eyes and saw that he had caught vision of Ginny, who was blushing gently and waved quickly at him to keep walking.

He grinned, slowly, and jogged to catch back up with McGonagoll.

Hermione turned to her friend, who kept her gaze on her hands in her lap, but a smile on her face just the same, as many surrounding girls gave either jealous glares or nudges and winks.

She looked up and caught Hermione's gaze, who raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Ginny was naturally attractive, more so than physically. Boys and girls alike were drawn to her, interested in her, intrigued by her. After a summer away from her closest female friend, Hermione noticed Ginny's natural appearance more than ever, and was voluntarily unaware of the fact that Ginny may be becoming a woman.

"We have yet another eager young mind to add to our ever growing community. I hope that, whatever house he is sorted upon, you will treat him with as much courtesy as can be summoned. And, as soon as he is sorted, you may return to your feast." Dumbledore finished with a twinkle in his eyes.

There was a minor burst of whispering until McGonagoll revealed the stoic Sorting Hat.

"_ORCANIL, MAXMILLION!" _startled, the young man was promptly told what to do by McGonagoll and he sat upon the tiny stool, looking rather ridiculous, as he _was_ pretty tall.

There were a few snickers from the boys, either for his uncomfortable figure or for his ludicrous name- but he seemed to be laughing good-naturedly at himself, so it wasn't considered malicious.

After several minutes, there was still silence… ten minutes went by…

Whispering had already broken out upon the students.

Fifteen minutes…

The teachers themselves were whispering, but Dumbledore looked placid…

Twenty minutes had passed and McGonagoll whispered something into the Headmaster's ear, who shook his head and continued to watch the young pupil.

Max himself wasn't fairing too well.

At first, he had looked very nervous and sweaty…

By now he was starting to look bored… It also looked like he seriously needed to use the restroom.

Finally, when it had been an entire half hour, Dumbledore called the students to attention.

"Breakfast is dismissed. Please attend your classes, and remember to be-"

_What the heck? What's going on?_

But McGonagoll had rushed over to her, and whispered that the two Heads should meet her in her office, then rushed off to Malfoy, who looked rather bored with the entire procession.

Hermione turned to her two friends, who were waiting for her a few feet away from the table.

She explained that she would see them later so she could show them around her new dorms, then gave them hugs.

The fact that Ron held the hug for too long did not go unnoticed by Hermione nor Harry.

Hermione walked away feeling uncomfortable.

_Ugh… lingering hugs are the worst…_

-

As Hermione waited patiently across from a scowling Malfoy in McGonagoll's office, she was startled when the door finally opened and in walked the man who was the topic on everyone's mind that day.

He looked a little lost. "The old lady with the dick up her ass told me to wait in here."

Hermione instantly frowned. Draco laughed. Hermione frowned harder. The young man was taken aback by Hermione's glare and, at this, Draco laughed harder.

"Perfect, just bloody perfect… like we need another asshole…"

"Oh shut up, Muddy." Draco held his hand out to the clueless boy and smirked. "Draco Malfoy."

"Max. Call me Zeus." 'Zeus' shook his hand but frowned. "And I don't think you should be talking to a lady like that."

Draco laughed once, bark-like. "Look who's talking!"

"Perhaps, but that woman emanates a stern, 'I'm evil' aura. This miss here seems to be charming, if a bit stern." He glanced at Hermione and suddenly apologized. "I'm sorry, where are my manners? I apologize for speaking poorly in your presence and, well… for speaking poorly of another. Do forgive me and tell me your name."

Hermione, despite his previous words, found herself blushing slightly. She straightened instantly. "It's quite forgivable. As a new student, I'm sure you're unaware who we all are. The… 'old lady' is professor McGonagoll, professor of transfiguration, and we are Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger, your Head Boy and Girl, respectively." Hermione, at last, held out her hand.

Zeus smirked. He bent on one knee to kiss her hand. "An honor, oh eloquently linguistic one."

Malfoy sneered at their behavior but faced their new companion. "Speaking of new students, what the heck was going on back there?"

Zeus shrugged and plopped into a chair. "I'll be cursed if I know. I'm supposed to be in a new House, or whatever they call it, and the rotten hat didn't say one word to me."

Hermione paused. "Don't they have houses where you come from? ...and where _do_ you come from?"

Zeus smirked. "I highly doubt you've ever heard of it," Draco snorted and whispered something along the lines of 'know-it-all bookworm probably would', "but it's in Scotland, goes by the name of Hiemland's Academy. We don't have enough students to be separated like that."

Hermione straightened, doing her best to remind herself that she should be setting an excellent example for a new pupil, "Well then as Head Girl I properly welcome you to Hog-"

But she instantly stopped and the three of then turned their heads to the doorway, where voices could be heard.

"…preposterous, he's only 17!"

Another, rougher sounding voice answered the shrill call. "I will be the judge of that, Minerva. If any Dark Magic occurs here-"

"Which there hadn't!"

"-then I shall be the judge of the culprit. That was a powerful magical object and, much like the Goblet of Fire three years ago, it would take a powerful dark wizard to confuddle it."

"Exactly! So how can you hope to interrogate a seventeen year old boy that grew up in the middle of nowhere?"

"The same start as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!"

"That's absolutely ridiculous! Voldemort himself couldn't have overpowered that hat without _some_ work, at least, _I don't know, _a wand at hand?!"

"Minerva, back away from the doorway. This is one of my many trips to this institution, and it is not the first that I have been held away from 'innocent' pupils. You cannot hide what goes on this school."

After a moment of hesitation and some curious looks between them (well, between Hermione and Zeus and between the latter and Draco) the door finally opened to reveal a disgruntled looking Cornelius Fudge.

Minerva McGonagoll followed his stroll into the office, although her _stroll _was more akin to storming, and Fudge plucked his thumbs from his suspender-straps and instead removed his bowling hat, which he presently fingered in his hand.

Hermione decided to act professional in the moment of silence.

"Good morning, Minister."

"Yes, yes, bloody perfect…" Fudge muttered and Hermione looked a little insulted. Fudge turned to Max, opening and closing his mouth several times before deciding what to say.

"Young man, I'll have you know-"

"That this is the _last_ time that you will ever hope to incriminate a student while he is under my care, Cornelius," Dumbledore finished for him from the doorway.

Fudge took a deep, tired breath and didn't open his cringed eyes, nor did he turn to him. "With all due respects, Headmaster, I have any right to _interrogate_ the student as much as I may damn well please. I did not apparate into the middle of the forest and _run_ all the way here so that you could tell me that _this isn't my business! _Any suspiciously dark magic should be notified to me immediately-"

"Which, somehow it was… mind explaining that one to us, Cornelius?"

"Minerva, calm down. If the Minister would like to visit to check up on affairs, then he should ask beforehand and schedule an appointment-"

"_An appointment?! _This school is under my jurisdiction! I have every right to _visit_ whenever I want! What have you got to hide?"

Dumbledore replied calmly, "Nothing, I would never dream of hiding anything from you, Minister. As I have stated before, we are on the same side-"

"How can I be so sure! I-"

"Minister! _How dare you?!"_

"Con_trol_ yourself, professor! I'm not touching upon any idea that your Headmaster here is conspiring on the other side, but he cannot be entirely sure of his students!"

There was a stiff, uncomfortable silence in the room.

Fudge sighed. Oddly, Hermione noticed that he glanced at Malfoy, briefly. "You know just as well as I do that many Death Eaters started in their teen years, and, although I myself cannot walk, student to student, and check their arms, we all know that there is a small population of your students that _do_ have that blasted mark."

Dumbledore breathed in, and also sent a glance towards Malfoy._ Not Zeus, Malfoy…Could he really have given it up already? _Hermione felt fear and, momentarily, loss, for the most truly disturbing thing about her scholastic counterpart was that he was just as prosperous as she, if not more, when it came to raw _potential_. "I will say one thing, Minister, and then I will ask you to leave this office. Despite any students here that have the misfortune of owing to that mark, _this school is not a conspiring institute for them! _ Although they may not entirely wish it upon themselves, students are here _to learn!_ What they do away from their studies, though I would wish to help steer them from dangerous and disturbing associations such as of the ones you speak, is _nothing_ that I can control. It is not something I have power over. It is _nothing_ that I force upon them. This is a free institute, and whatever their beliefs are, when they are _here_ they are here to _learn…_I had approached this young student weeks ago, and he seemed _keen to learn._ Therefore, whatever his pretenses are, _that is what we shall give him._ The notion that the situation back there was an act of dark magic is inconceivable. We shall work around it, so as to enlighten his experience here… Now, minister, if you would kindly leave this office, and don't ever come back to touch upon this subject, _especially_ if you are hoping to confront a student while I am not present… if you feel the need to continue this ridiculous idea, I will meet you in my office in just a few minutes."

Fudge twirled his hat once, sent a final glance towards the students, each receiving a unique emotion, "In your office, then," placed the hat upon his head, and walked firmly out of the office.

"Headmaster…"

"Not now, Minerva. We have other subjects to press upon."

Dumbledore turned to the flabbergasted students, and, as if seeing them for the first time, clasped his hands together and began to speak.

"Now, as for the matter of young Mr. Orcanil's orientation. While, at the moment, we are unable to present him with a house, we have come to the sudden conclusion that he shall take residence with yourselves, if only temporarily. He will take classes with you, and I'm sure the both of you have noticed your identical schedules." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, if only for a glance, when the two students made the same face of disgust. "You will eat together, at your own table in the Great Hall, as prepared for Heads of recent years. In a way, you will be your own house. When you have your Head duties, he is not required to participate, but it would be appreciated. Considering your background, perhaps you could bring some new, cultured ideas for our many extracurricular shin-digs this year. Mr. Malfoy and Ms. Granger, your task is to display companionship to Mr. Orcanil. Show him the community that is our institution, and display to the rest of the institution that it does not matter your previous preferences, you are able to work together. Any conflicts will be resolved amongst yourselves, but should you travel to a level that is out of your control, you can always, always come to my office… please, I know you will do your best to show him a good home. For now I want you to-Ms. Granger please do not be so rude as to check your pocketwatch again, I know as well as you do that it is the first day of classes. You two may feel free, should I hint ever so bluntly, to give Mr. Orcanil a tour of our castle, though try not to do so in the later hours, hmm? If this should work out between the three of you, then this should stay a permanent situation… Now, if you will excuse me, I must travel to my own quarters to confront a rather disgruntled Minister of Magic… Well, I forgot to tell him the password, didn't I?" Dumbledore chuckled. "If you are in the need of my assistance, the password is 'twizzler.'" That being said, Dumbledore pulled one of these candies out of midair and walked out of the office.

Minerva looked absolutely shocked at what had just occurred.

"Well… you should best be along to your classes, I do believe you three now have History of Magic to begin your mornings, correct? Mr. Orcanil I will bring you a copy of your schedule tomorrow morning, but until then I'm sure your two examples" McGonagoll looked pointedly to Hermionem whose spine straightened upon eye contact, "will be happy to share with you… I must be off, run along now."

As the three left the office and traveled along the hallway to Professor Binn's classroom, Zeus inbetween the two adversaries, Hermione felt drawn into herself, absorbed into her thoughts-about whether or not Malfoy would hide his true colors, whether or not she should confront him, how it was going to be possible to parent the child Dumbledore left in their care.


	6. Chapter 6

More and more readers, still no reviewers.

Ah well, it's still a type of closure.

Zeus is a rather playful sort, you'll see. at points unrealistically so, but character development is a must, ja?

* * *

"Ah! What great glory is this! Another dorm-mate so soon?" 'Link' seemed enthused. "I am Lord Volknor and I will be your-"

"Can it, sporky."

"Malfoy! That's rude!"

"So is your presence, Granger."

They had only just finished their routine classes for the day, History of Magic, Charms, and Herbology, and upon entering the room, the duo began to fight, and Zeus instantly stood between them.

"I understand that you have differences, but fighting over something so immature is… rather immature."

"They're not fighting, they're bickering. Notice how they don't really have anything to _fight about._ It's just that they feel the urge to insult or reprimand each other."

All three turned, startled, to Link, who was still facing the doorway.

"Erm, thanks… I guess." Zeus smiled lamely and dropped his hands, which he was using to hold the two apart moments before, to his side.

Link turned to the trio and beamed. "It is my _pleasure!_ I'm not just an instruction manual, I'm also a very perceptive dictionary and encyclopedia! I am even programmed in the art of 'mapquesting'!"

Only Hermione laughed.

The two looked at her expectantly and she blushed and decided to speak upon what was necessary. She turned to Zeus. "Umm, the rule about decorating this place is to think about what you want… if you want a big pink bean bag chair in the common room-"

"Which you better not."

"Then just… think about where you want it and how big and… yea…" Hermione finished lamely, with a blush.

"Ok… well first off, this common room is dreadful. Who picked this out?"

Hermione beamed and Draco scoffed. Zeus closed his eyes for a moment and, in said moment; it was a large room with high glass ceilings which let the sunshine stream in. The walls were painted a calm, pale yellow, and there were light hard wood floors. Chaise lounges were placed here and there, along with random desks and chairs for studying, all brought together by a large light green rug. On the other side of the room were a few rows of books, behind which were doors to every common room and to the Head Dorms, which naturally had remained.

At last, in a darker corner of the common room, he added a fireplace and several loveseats and couches, with a dark green rug in front of the hearth.

Hermione breathed in deeply. "Wow…"

Draco smirked slightly. "Not too shabby. But… wait, are you an interior designer?" after a moment Draco gasped slightly and sneered menacingly, "You're _gay_ aren't you?!"

Zeus scoffed. "I am nothing of the sort, how very close minded of you. I just happen to be bisexual."

Draco looked slightly taken aback. "Just don't come on to _me_."

Hermione was about to scold him for his rudeness when Zeus laughed in disbelief. "I have_ no_ intentions of the sort. It is rather conceited of you to suspect that, because although you are somewhat handsome, as obviously and tactlessly noticed by the female population, your hair is greasy, your eyes cold, and you have an awful aura. I would never besmirch myself by dating you… and if you must know, there is a certain lady that has my eye." He smiled and winked at Hermione.

Hermione's eyes widened… _what the…?_

Draco gasped awfully. "You don't mean you're harboring a crush for _Granger?!"_

Zeus looked innocently surprised. "Not at all. Hermione, you are a lovely young woman, but I can see that there are things that are troubling you in your love life that _I_ could never comprehend, nor associate myself to living up to them. No, I'm speaking about her young lady friend, the red-headed lass."

Both Draco and Hermione were taken aback a moment. "Ginny?" Hermione asked quietly.

"_Weaselette?" _ Draco asked incredulously.

Zeus seemed to puff up at the statement in defense, but Hermione came to the rescue, rather hotheadedly. "Malfoy, keep your fat mouth shut before we even bother to ask you about_ your_ love interests… _Parkinson…_ honestly, can you do any worse? Ginny is my best friend, and the next time you speak of her in such a terrible manner, I'll have waxed your pubes and taped them to your forehead. I mean it; I won't stand for it anymore."

Hermione looked very serious as she said this, and that was probably the best part.

Draco was left taken back a moment, so Hermione smiled suddenly, linked her arm into Zeus's, and walked him to a blank part of the wall, where, as Draco watched, a door appeared and opened for him, and they walked into it, to decorate, all the while Hermione was chatting animatedly.

_Where the heck did that come from? _Draco sneered at the closed door, already predicting the course of the following year, now fully witnessing the truth that Granger would make buddies with anyone she felt desperate friendship for, who happened to now be their new roommate.

He didn't care for Zeus, he was too charming, too tactful and _pleasant_ to be real. He knew that blunt honesty was a quality he found only in himself, and it bored him to listen to the loquacity of another, one who could concisely get to the point but, for reasons Malfoy could not comprehend, felt the need to soften the blow of their words.

As if what they had to say could have enough meaning to be a blow, as if anyone could ever say anything with enough insulting audacity that it could be considered a punch to his stoic face.

_-_

"So what's it like in Scotland? I've never really been there."

Hermione sat on Zeus' bed, analyzing him as he stacked his clothes (which he had a lot of) into his armoire. Zeus had given himself a room that was set up like a greenhouse, it was all windows, except for the wall with the door leading back to the common room. But, he had enchanted each 'window' to view another corner of the globe; one window showed a view of a roaring ocean at sunset, another window showed a country village at midmorning, and another gave an amazing view in a jungle, as if it was right next to them! Hermione had gazed at that window for near ten minutes, transfixed by all the different things going on at once. She even spotted a jaguar!

The ceiling was glass, and it showed midnight, even though it was around noon in actuality. It was more interesting that Hermione had ever seen, it was full of meteors and comets and things she'd never hoped to have seen during astronomy.

Inside was quite nice, Zeus gave himself marble floors. A little cold and smooth, but he also devoted an entire corner to a large raised bed, to which you reached by descending steps of goldish marble, making it look like the larger-than-king-sized-bed was set into the ground. All the furniture was solid gold, well, he designed it to look it.

It wasn't really a place to hang out, Zeus had admitted himself. He would spend most of his time in the common room. And the room for 'sleeping and other such activities.'

This kid really did think he was a god.

Zeus half-smiled and looked teasingly at Hermione for her question (What is Scotland like?). "Hermione, how would you feel if I asked you what England was like?"

Hermione looked a little taken back, and surprised at the oddity of his questioning. "I would have to ask what part you're talking about… Oh." Hermione blushed, realizing her ignorance. "What's in like in Scotland where _you_ lived?"

Zeus smiled. "That's better… Well the Heimland Academy was full year, so we were there, even for the summer. They plopped it down in the middle of nowhere, which is good, considering it _was_ one of the only wizarding schools around… It was started by anti-Nazi's during Hitler's reign, which explains the name. It was originally a sanctuary for those seeking it, and eventually it became an academy for wizards seeking sanctuary as well. Like Hogwarts, we started our first year when we turned eleven, so this year would still be my seventh and final year. It used to be a boys private wizarding school, so there weren't many students to begin with, as it was mostly kept in secret, and there was no school for the girls in the community, so, two years ago, we started letting girls in. But before that, we only had about 5 boys in each class."

"Wow…" Hermione pondered the thought… then she smirked devilishly. "Soo, it was all boys huh? I wonder what happened in the middle of the night _there,_ hmm?" Hermione licked her lips suggestively… before wishing she could've ripped them off.

_How the hell did she forget that he _is_ bisexual?!?_

Before she even knew what she was doing, she peeped and jumped off the bed, heading for the door at a run, embarrassed like never before.

Suddenly she was tackled by Zeus from behind…

He turned her around…

And she realized that he was laughing himself to a point that was rather unhealthy, she was sure.

Hermione blushed, wondering what was going on as he gripped her face and caught his breath.

"Oh Hermione, you're a riot! You… you-" He broke into another fit of giggles and laughter… _giggles? Honestly…_"You should've seen the look on your face!"

With that, Zeus collapsed on top of her into another fit of laughter at Hermione's blushing face.

Rather uncomfortable with their positions, Hermione tried to push him off her.

Suddenly he stopped laughing.

He looked her straight in the eyes, an action which Hermione usually faced when she was adamant for a fight and ergo had her own glare. Instead she only felt vulnerable.

His eyes… all of a sudden they were dead serious. They seemed to peer into her soul.

"Hermione…" Zeus spoke in a dead whisper.

Hermione's eyes widened.

He propped himself up on his elbows.

He bent down to her ear, breathing a bit harder than she would have liked.

He placed his opposite hand against the other side of her neck and squeezed gently…

Her took his other hand and placed it on her hip…

"LIGHTEN UP!"

With such an unexpected eruption, Zeus tickled Hermione, who felt herself gradually emulating his comfortability.

-

Draco couldn't sleep, the rest required to compensate for the ruinous day out of reach. How the hell did he manage to get their rooms so close together. He could've sworn that he put his door on the opposite side of the room as _either_ of theirs.

He could hear them talking and it drove him crazy. Grabbing his wand, he was about to cast a very_ very_ strong silencing spell, rather permanent, just a little green flash not legal within Hogwarts castle… or really anywhere else- when he heard a distant knock at the common room door.

He sighed. Neither of _them_ would be able to hear it, he knew.

Dragging himself away from his Egyptian cotton sheets, he grumbled towards the door.

_I'm coming, I'm coming…_

They kept knocking.

Malfoy, aggravated, was not very pleased to open the door and see Weaselette looking impatient.

Seeing him, she stopped.

Malfoy didn't care to remember he wasn't wearing a shirt, which he realized from the horrifically clichéd look upon the fiery girl's face..

-

_Oh. My. God._

_Please tell me I'm not checking out Draco Malfoy._

_Please tell me that _that_ is not Draco Malfoy._

_I felt bad for Hermione because she had to live with him… but he _sure_ is something to look at…just not something to buy and bring home to the 'rents._

_Six foot…three? Geez…_

_Of course, the blonde hair. greasy but still flopped around his face and ultimately adorable._

_Naturally, the trademark eyes…_

_But why am I bothering to mention everything above his neck?_

_It's the topless bod I'm checking out…_

_Hmm… too bad he's such an asshole. _

_Unlike Hermione, I can appreciate a hot guy… I just know that that doesn't necessarily mean I have interests._

_Oh look, he's talking._

_I wonder why I'm still talking to myself._

_Huh…_

_Interesting._

_-_

When he answered the door, she rolled her eyes. "Figures…" she mumbled.

Malfoy scowled but didn't move. "Yes, Weasel-junior. _Me._ This _is_ my common room."

Ginny drifted for a while, then avoided his eyes as she tried to shove past him.

"Ah ah ah. I don't think so." He pushed the petite sixth year back outside, only to find that she tried everything to get past him.

When she kept pushing away at his chest, he picked her up by her sides and carried her, horizontal and off to the side of him to avoid contact, back into the hallway, where she latched herself onto his shoulders.

"Let me in you sodding git!"

"What the hell is your problem! You'd think I'd let _you_ into _my_ common room? Think again, if you even thought in the first place!"

She had latched her arms around his neck and was kicking at his shins, missing terribly. He tried to push her off by her arms, her hips, her stomach, _anything_ to get the flaming red head off him.

"Malfoy you idiot I'm not here for _you!"_

"No _shit,_ you insolent child, but I'm- OW!"

Ginny had shoved her face upwards and harshly bit his shoulder. Malfoy fell backward, and Ginny found herself on the floor- but she was inside!

She scrambled forward, into the common room, but Malfoy was a bit… pissed, at the sharpness of her teeth.

"You little snot! You're not going anywhere!" that being said, Malfoy reached behind him and grabbed a hold of Ginny's ankle, which she had finally managed to stand upon, and was about to run when he pulled her off balance.

Having a fight with gravity, Ginny fell to the floor _hard._

She thrashed away from his grip, but he was too damn strong to let her go. "YOU _bitch_, Malfoy! That fucking hurt!"

Malfoy laughed harshly and pointed to his shoulder. "As if that didn't?!"

"You deserved it!"

"How?!"

"For being an idiot!"

"What did I do?!" Malfoy roared at her, standing up and grabbing Ginny's waist, so that she was suspended several feet off the ground.

"Sod off! You're just an asshole!"

"And you're a prude, something I should tell to your loverboy in there!"

"At least this way I can't be a whore! Prancing around like you're too good for anyone, too bored for anyone real! Fucking grow up, no one cares!"

When Malfoy did not reply, Ginny opened her eyes. When his silence continued, she looked upwards, cautiously. She knew Malfoy would hit her if he had to.

But she was unable to gauge his reaction to her words, for the moment she looked to him she could see his face contort in a sneer that fit over his true expressions.

As he walked to a room on the far side of the room, Ginny hesitatingly followed, remembering George Orwell.

_He wears a mask, and his face grows to fit it._

Meanwhile, Zeus and Hermione were engaged in fights of giggles and tickles as they romped around the bed, trying their best to push the other off.

"Yea well your mother doesn't know the difference between a condom and a minidress!"

"That didn't even make sense!"

"Since when has anything we said today made sense?!"

With that, Zeus successfully pinned Hermione down and attacked her stomach, receiving a very flexible knee in the ass from Hermione.

Back on top, Hermione resumed their conversation- if you could call it that.

"Yeah well your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of-"

"Very original, Granger."

Hermione and Zeus both froze and looked up to see a sneering Malfoy standing in the doorway.

"I've got a present for you, Muddy. I'm sure she'll just love your positions-_umph_"

Malfoy was suddenly shoved mercilessly out of the way, very oddly in fact, as if something had hit him in the direct, vulnerable middle of his back. He fell flat to his face, and Ginny jumped over him.

The moment she saw them, however, she froze.

It's just not everyday you see your best friend straddling your crush. Not necessarily mad… just… confused…

Zeus got his act together.

Shoving Hermione off him very roughly, he stood up immediately.

"Ginny!" He stepped one step closer to her on the bed, bowed slightly, then nearly fell as the mattress tipped against his favor.

"I… did not anticipate your appearance here."

Ginny blinked twice and, in the background, a grumbling Malfoy stood up and brushed himself off, grabbed his shoulder, and walked out the door, slamming it behind him.

"I can honestly say I didn't either… I came to see Hermione, McGonagoll showed me the way here… I didn't mean to interrupt."

The blood suddenly returned to her face, and _fast._

"Um, should I wait outside?"

Zeus seemed honestly perplexed. "Why? Do you…" suddenly his face brightened. "Oh! Oh, my dear Ginny, I apologize greatly for the position in which your friend and I were in when you came into the room… it was… meaningless…"

Hermione, rubbing the back of her head, suddenly jumped up and hugged Ginny.

"Oy! Hi! Um… can I talk to you in the common room?"

Zeus raised his eyebrows and gained back his sense of humor. "Well I can tell when _I'm_ not wanted…"

Hermione laughed good naturedly. "Got that one right. Go back to packing your clothes, pretty-boy!"

As the girls left the room, Zeus made sure to watch to see if they shut the door. When they did, he lost his composure, falling onto the bed.

Holding the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger, he breathed out a mantra of sorts. "It's just one date, just one girl."


	7. Chapter 7

Another one, another one!

I was a bit lax on proofreading, I hope it's not too bad!

* * *

Ginny was still slightly dazed as Hermione rushed her into the common room.

When Hermione plopped her down on a wicker chaise, Ginny waited expectantly her to begin.

Hermione sat down across a table on a comfy looking chair and looked at Ginny with a grin.

"You didn't tell me you had a date Saturday night."

Ginny blinked, thinking. Then she laughed, realizing what Hermione was talking about. "Oh, _that._ That's nothing serious."

Hermione smirked, looking all-knowing. "Mhmm." She rested her elbows on the table and leaned over to her.

"He really likes you. I mean, _really_ likes you."

Ginny scoffed. "I assure you, he couldn't like me _that_ much. I only met him this morning…. Very odd that he was in the Gryffindor commons…"

Hermione didn't seem to be paying attention. Suddenly she perked. "Gin, I haven't been able to really see you since June!"

Ginny raised an eyebrow but smiled. "Yea, I've really missed actually hanging out with a _girl…_ Harry and Ron are no fun. At all."

Hermione laughed. "Tell me about it. Of course, at least you can talk to them about Quidditch, I never cou-"

"Not for three bloody hours straight! Still… we saw each other at the feast last night but you didn't stay long."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "That git just _had_ to leave right after the sorting."

Ginny frowned. "Speaking of that git, how are you going to be able to live with him?"

Hermione sighed. "I don't know… at least I can always go in my room to hide from him… and I'll try to come around the commons now and then. But… ugh, yesterday after the feast. He was such a git."

Suddenly a voice sounded from behind them. "How very sad, that you have nothing else to call me than a git. And speaking of taking sanctuary in your room, would you mind taking your girl talk there, I've grown rather bored with have you two take up my common room, so if you'll excuse yourselves from my presence…"

Hermione looked indignant. "Shut up Malfoy, it's not _your_ room and we're not _taking it up._ There's plenty of room for your huge ego over there."

Ginny nodded. "And what reason do we have to listen to _you?_"

Malfoy scoffed and ran his hand through his hair. "I don't think I should have to explain myself to _you_, as I'm sure I've mentioned it plenty of times before…"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well there is no reason for us to leave."

Malfoy smirked. "Oh but I think there is. I have a lady caller coming over and unless you two get off watching other people-"

"That's disgusting! C'mon Ginny, I can show you my room." With that, Hermione and Ginny ran to the elder girl's room.

-

When Ginny got to Hermione's room, she was surprised.

"Wow, Hermione, not a bookshelf in sight."

Ginny beamed at her, mockingly, but Hermione blushed and magicked open a door that led to an enormous library.

"Tsk, tsk… you must expect to be _really _bored."

Hermione sighed as she fell onto her bed, looking up at her ceiling. "How could I not have expected something like that? Malfoy is…."

Ginny fell next to her, admiring her dark green ceiling. "Confusing? For a moment I think I can see a bit of charm to him but-"

Sudden movement interrupted her, and Ginny noticed that at her statement Hermione had spun her head quickly towards her, a surprised look on her face.

Ginny raised her eyebrows at her. "What? I'm not saying I fancy him or anything, just that… I can see why other girls do."

Hermione turned her head slowly to look back at the ceiling. "No, Gin, I understand… it's just that I know exactly what you're saying. I just figured I was making it up or something."

Ginny laughed alone. "Well Hermione, with who _you _are, its best if you _do_ act like you're faking it."

Hermione was silent. "What's that supposed to mean?" She asked quietly.

Ginny recognized it immediately. "Oh, come on Hermione, I don't mean anything by it."

Hermione shifted uncomfortably, not quite believing her.

Ginny sighed. "I'm just saying that _you_, as Hermione Granger, Head Girl, female of the Golden Trio, and best friend of the Boy-Who-Lived, would not be best admiring Malfoy."

"Fancy Malfoy?! Ridiculous Gin, I'm only coming to the realization that perhaps he's got more to him, charming perhaps, but most likely something I don't want to find… And surely not that he would ever display it to _me._" Hermione then slowed her speech, whispered quietly. "Who would it matter to that I am… those things?"

"Uhhh, your friends maybe? What's going on Hermione, you're hiding something."

Hermione snorted sardonically. Sarcasm was strong on her emotions right now. "Actually I'm not. I've got nothing to hide. I AM those things you said, and nothing could ever change. My best friends will always be there for me, and I will never gain feelings for anyone. I'm Hermione Granger. I'll get top marks the rest of my life and I'll get some great job at the ministry. Why? Because I'm constant. I'm always there, ALWAYS! ...Oh Gin I don't want to yell, I don't mean to yell at you… I just…."

Hermione stood up, still not facing her friend, and walked to the window overlooking the grounds.

Constant. This year was supposed to be assured.

Live it up as Head Girl, don't let anyone talk you down… this year was supposed to be great.

Hermione breathed in deep, wrapped her arms around herself, and finished her statement.

"…I just feel like things are going to be different this year is all."

Someone heard them.

-

After dropping the Weaselette at Zeus' room, Draco had returned to his own room. Dark blues and white trim… He snorted at the idea that it didn't resemble his room at the mansion at all.

Draco walked over to the bed, turned on his side so that he faced his windows, and gazed sadly at the grounds.

_Today had been… dull, in sorts._

_Nothing surprising about it._

_Nothing fun._

_Well, that god-guy was a bit of a surprise… why the heck would Dumbledore put him with them?_

_Knowing Dumbledore, there was probably something bigger going on here…_

_The Dark Lord maybe?_

As that thought crossed his mind he glanced around the room with paranoia.

Closing the curtains to his windows and casting a silencing spell upon his dormitory, Draco reached into his pocket, where he had miniaturized a small chest.

Placing it on the bed before him and sitting Indian-style, Draco opened it and pulled out a crude wooden bowl, bought in a musty little shop down Knockturn Alley.

Breathing in deep, Draco took out his wand.

_She was on the floor of the carriage, looking to his eyes with fear as his own widened with surprise at her display_

_He stared and she tried to cover her sudden fat but that wasn't… it wasn't it…_

_The mutilation of her wrists…_

Another thought, coming fast.

_Draco had been surprised she had done it, really._

_Mother was never one for pain._

_Pain from Father was usually approached by a sedative spell…_

_So as Draco lay on bed, his door locked from his house-elf knocking quietly, asking softly if he wanted to talk to her, Draco wasn't sure how to feel about the loss of his mother._

_He really _was_ surprised that she cut herself to do it. He would've thought she'd have ended with something flashy, maybe hanging herself._

_But _flashy_ was just another one of her disguises, and suggesting it proved he didn't know her as well as he did._

_No, what he really had expected was poison…_

_He _knew_ she would get around to it eventually._

_Despite the talks he gave her, Mother was ultimately weak, and an incredible escapist._

Draco cringed and, using his wand, dropped the last, depressing thought into the Pensieve.

-

Draco lay on his bed, somewhat sedated from a recent calming spell, when he heard muffled talking.

Heading towards the common room door, the talking got quieter.

He headed towards the other direction, a door that he created for a personal library when they first made their rooms.

He hadn't had a chance to enter it, but once he opened the door he could tell the sounds were coming from here.

Anger flushed through him.

How and _why_ would people be in _his_ library?

Taking out his wand, he prepared to kill whoever he caught, not before asking the flaw in his spell.

The room was dark; there were torches and fireplaces here and there, but no overhead lights.

After a quick pace around, he realized that no one was there, and the sounds didn't originate there either.

Pushing past a distant bookshelf, Draco glimpsed a vertical rectangle of light… and the origin of the sounds, suddenly becoming crystal clear through the open doorway.

"… _you_, as Hermione Granger, Head Girl, female of the Golden Trio, and best friend of the Boy-Who-Lived, would not be best admiring Malfoy."

Draco's eyebrows shot up. That was Weaselette. But _how…_? And Granger admires me? ….what the bloody hell, I must be crazy…

"Fancy Malfoy?! Ridiculous Gin, I'm only coming to the realization that perhaps he's got more to him, charming perhaps, but most likely something I don't want to find… And surely not that he would ever display it to _me._"

Draco's face darkened at her words, but then she continued, in a whisper.

"Who would it matter to that I am… those things?" _'Those things?' Does that include fancying me? Oooh I'll get them both for this one…_

"Uhhh, your friends maybe? What's going on Hermione, you're hiding something."

The other girl let out a sound like a laughing horse. Draco smirked at her ungraceful movement.

"Actually I'm not. I've got nothing to hide. I AM those things you said, and nothing could ever change. My best friends will always be there for me, and I will never gain feelings for anyone. I'm Hermione Granger." _Sarcastic much? _"I'll get top marks the rest of my life and I'll get some great job at the ministry. Why? Because I'm constant. I'm always there, ALWAYS! ...Oh Gin I don't want to yell, I don't mean to yell at you… I just…."

_Just what?_

During her silence Draco wondered if she was whispering something, and moved closer, getting a good look at where he was.

There was a spiral staircase leading up to Hermione's room, and he was directly underneath it, so even if they looked out the door and straight down they wouldn't see past the shingles.

He moved tentatively closer, just as Hermione answered in a whisper that he somehow heard…

"…I just feel like things are going to be different this year is all."

At that very moment, he stepped on his own toe.

Holding in his breath, he tried to move his foot away but only succeeded in banging his foot against the railing…

Losing balance, twisting, and crashing _loudly_ on the steps in the process.

Holding in his profanity, he stopped breathing as Hermione and Ginny both threw their heads out the doorway.

"What the bloody hell… _Who's in here?!"_

….silence…

"Maybe Crookshanks got in here while we left it open." Ginny seemed to be reasoning with Hermione.

But Draco couldn't help wondering what the hell they meant; they acted as if they owned _his_ library!

"No, I definitely heard it, and so did you!"

Muttering something, Hermione caused sudden light, illuminating the entire room.

"Geez Hermione, you went a little overboard with this place… Did you expect to hideout in here or something?"

"That's _exactly_ it, so I don't appreciate a little _snoop _running around in here! …This will only take a sec, Gin."

"Mhmm, sure. It looks like it would take _days_ to get to the other side."

"Oh, shut up."

With that, Hermione stepped onto the first step of the staircase, there was nothing Draco could do.

Malfoy tried to stand, but it seemed that his ankle was sprained.

_Fuck._

_Shit, his wand was about three feet away._

_Concentrate, Draco, you know wandless magic._

Malfoy shut his eyes and prayed it would work.

Hermione was walking closer…

Hermione stepped right through him. Draco, underneath the wavering spell, smiled in relief, until she stopped, her feet still inside his invisible, matter-less form.

She spoke in an annoyed voice, nearly disappointed, her tone set to one of exhaustion, nearly piteous.

"What the bloody hell… Malfoy you think I don't know how to work past that spell?"


	8. Chapter 8

The last chapter was a tiny bit of a cliffhanger, and this chapter is short anyways, so i decided to toss it up here. I think I'm pretty much going to get this all up in the air at once.

Which is actually a bad idea, since I'm sure the only reason anyone is reading is because I've been near the top on 'just in' and the 'newly updated' pages.

But still... I just want to get this over with, and no one likes it anyways. :(

I apologize for the somewhat emo ending to this chapter.

* * *

_I can't believe the little twerp got in here!_

_How!?_

Draco lay on her floor, scowling but helpless, as Hermione tapped her foot impatiently, waiting for him to speak.

Hermione had decided that when Malfoy didn't speak, and didn't seem able to walk, that the fool must have done something to himself. Hermione levitated him to her room, eager to find the reason for why _Malfoy_ would be in her library.

Ginny shifted uncomfortably. "Uhh, I think I'll go check in with Zeus…" She sprinted from the room, eager to escape their conflicting auras and shut the door behind her, leaving the scowling couple alone.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "_Well?_"

Draco looked taken aback. "Well _what?_ _I'm_ waiting for _you_ to explain!"

Hermione scoffed in disbelief. "Explain _what, _precisely?"

"How the heck you have a door to _my_ library!"

Hermione dropped her crossed arms. "_Excuse me? _What the heck are you talking about, _your_ library? The last time I checked _I_ had been the one to make the library so that _I_ could escape from _you_!"

Draco scowled. "_I_ made that library the day we got here… and just like you _I've _got a door that leads right into it, right from _my_ room! I don't appreciate a door to your _filth_ attached to it!"

"Look you prissy _bitch,_ I don't appreciate a _stinking_ Malfoy snooping through my things!"

"I would never want to! Aren't you listening, Muddy? I just explained to you that you're _filthy_! All I want to know is why you have a door leading to my dormitories!"

"Aren't _you_ listening? I just said that _I made that library._ And all _I_ want to know is how disillusioned you are to think that you could even lead to something of _my_ creation!"

Draco slammed his fist against the floor, ending their droning spat.

"If you'll get me my wand from down there then I'll show you myself how _disillusioned_ I am!"

Hermione narrowed her eyes, crossed her arms, and did not move.

Draco sighed softly and looked at the ceiling, suddenly exhausted. "I don't care if you believe me or if you'll even bother to get my wand, but could you please just fix my ankle so I can leave your room and never return?"

Hermione's look softened a bit, and her arms dropped.

"What did you do to it?" she asked quietly as she padded towards him.

"I sprained it… why else would I still have been splayed out on the stairs, hiding from you? I'm not _that_ low, to have to hide from you."

"Maybe, but you still did. And from what you're saying, you're suggesting that if your ankle hadn't been busted you would've run like a coward instead."

Hermione smirked and Draco scowled at the ceiling.

Hermione healed it quickly, a powerful sedative for the pain.

-

Ginny had found Zeus dazing off on the couch in the common room.

Tip-toeing softly up to him, she waved his hand in front of his face and giggled as he jumped ungracefully.

"Ginerva, I did not notice you! How foolish of me…"

Ginny rolled her eyes and Zeus smirked charismatically.

"I heard that we're supposed to give you a tour today…"

Zeus waved it away. "Oh, that droll thing. You speak of it like some menial task, it is not required of you… although I would love your company, I don't believe my companions are very… amicable."

Ginny giggled again but suddenly thought about what was probably going on in the room she just departed. "Got that right." She muttered darkly.

Zeus smiled at her and stood, holding his arm out to her. "Come. We shall gather them and get this over with. If you would _please_ accompany me…"

Zeus' eyes turned very soft and Ginny melted towards him, smiling, blushing, and looking away all at once as she held onto his arm.

Zeus grinned, and they headed towards the room where the two must be quarrelling.

-

"Ooooh…. Hermione thank…. You…."

Zeus and Ginny stopped short as they heard the moan emanating from the Head Girl's room, so obviously intimate, passionate, one of ultimate physical pleasure.

Shooting their flying eyebrows at one another, they wondered if this was a scene they would really want to interrupt, for their own sake.

-

"Oooh Hermione…"

Hermione blushed scarlet as she roughed through her business.

Pausing, she ran her finger across the smooth surface, finally memorizing the image and pulling away.

"Noo, no let it stay…" Draco moaned hysterically.

"Draco I will not have you delirious on my bedroom floor because I overpowered your sedative! People get in trouble for these kinds of things!"

Draco writhed slightly, a bland smile still on his face, staring at the ceiling, not even glancing at her.

"Stupid Muggles, why on Earth would this be illegal?"

Hermione blushed deeper and ran her finger through her spellbook again, her finger running across the smooth paper, not answering him.

Glancing at Draco, Hermione swished her wand and his smile stopped at once.

Sitting up immediately, Draco glared at her.

"Don't ever do that to me again."

Hermione blinked again. The cold hard stare he gave her was pure hatred… it wasn't like Hermione made him say the things he did! All she did was take away his stupid pain, and he sure as hell enjoyed it! And here he is acting like he hadn't begged her to leave the sedative for just a moment more.

With another swish and a returning glare from Hermione, his ankle was healed and he stood up.

"Stupid Mudblood can't even cast a proper sedative."

"Ex_cuse_ me? You didn't seem to mind just a moment ago!"

"Yeah well a moment ago I wasn't-"

Draco stopped short, as if he realized what he was about to say, and glared at her, this time… it was colder. Not malicious in any sort, just weren't what, Malfoy. Tell me why you're so different when you're not dealing with the pain. Tell me, what is it that keeps you in pain. Is it what keeps you acting like a prick? Are you covering up your pain, Malfoy? …why should your pain cause a change in your character?

_Are you protecting yourself from further pain?_

Hermione rolled her eyes at his glare. "This is futile, Malfoy, just leave my room."

_Why do you act so different when you're not in pain?_


	9. Read Me!

This is the first of my favorite chapters, because things get fun and they start fighting with their brains.

At least Malfoy does.

Anyways, its a good read, I hope someone comments, even if its just to say they _didn't_ like it.

* * *

Oh boy, yippee.

Just what everybody wants, to be laying on the Mudblood's floor and unable to run away in disgust.

He had to say one thing, he was just as confused as her on why the fuck they seemed to create the same library.

So as he was finally able to carry himself to her door that would lead him back through his library, he glanced back at her as she spoke to him in a distracted manner.

But as he was distracted himself, he had no choice but to reply.

No way Muddy gets the last word.

"What did you say?"

She looked almost surprised that he'd spoken and, after hearing what he'd said, even more surprised that _she'd_ spoken.

"I… said that out loud?"

"No shit Mudblood, I'm not going to bother reading your mind."

She turned a slight pink but answered his question nonetheless. "I'm trying to figure out how we somehow created the same room."

Draco shrugged. "So you believe me then?" He sneered.

"I have plenty of reasons not to…"

His sneer intensified as he took note of this. "I bet you're just dying for a reason to go to the library and find a book on blind enemies creating a room full of books. '_Oooh Madam Pince Madam Pince, I need all the books on you have on why wands don't work for stupid little Mudbloods!'_" Draco smirked at his mock and looked triumphant.

Hermione stared at him blankly. She walked towards him

Slightly surprised, Draco expected a hard slap, but she walked past him into the door he was headed into a minute earlier.

Standing on the top step, she was approached by Draco.

"Well gee Malfoy, does it really look like I need a reason to go to the _school_ library?"

Hermione started down the stairs and Malfoy followed, feeling slightly foolish for having his insult pointless, replying with sarcastic disdain. "Are you insulting your sanctuary of six years? Madam Pince will be appalled."

Hermione scoffed slightly to herself. "That woman won't miss a thing. She didn't like me there because she was uncomfortable writing her smut while there was a student nearby."

Draco stopped short. "That's incredibly disturbing."

Continuing his previous pace down the stairs, Draco reached the bottom and found Hermione walking slowly towards the other side of the library, where Draco knew his room lay.

Hermione seemed to look upon the books fondly.

She muttered to herself.

"Muddy, if you're going to say something stupid say it loud so I can make fun of you."

Hermione laughed. "I was just wondering, _Malfoy, _how it's possible for you to have made this library with everything set up the same exact way as mine." She picked up a book from where it lay, on top of a bookshelf, it had stood alone.

"This is my favorite book."

Malfoy stepped towards her, into the light so as to see the title of the book.

"As it is mine, Mudblood. That being said, it should not be a surprise to you that it was on display like that."

Hermione laughed shortly and softly. "It didn't surprise me at all, some part of me probably wanted it here too…."

Placing _The Count Of Monte Christo_ back whereupon it lay, Hermione looked around the room fondly.

Draco sneered. "Get used to it Mudblood, somehow we both had the same idea."

He started to walk slowly towards his room and Hermione followed, falling into step beside him.

"The same idea? Well then you know why it's hard for me to believe that we could have anything in common."

A silence followed as they headed towards Malfoy's room.

Upon reaching the door, Hermione felt odd for having walked him there, it would surely look that way when she left, making it appear that walking Malfoy to his room had indeed been her task.

She was about to comment crudely on some menial thing, so as the ruin their amicable comfort, but to ease her discomfort, when Draco turned to her.

He must have thought she would continue upon her previous sentiments because he held up a hand and spoke quickly, annoyed.

"Like I said, get used to it. We may be alike, but we have nothing in common."

Hermione frowned at him. "We couldn't be very alike, Malfoy. You're a pure-blooded prick and I'm…"

Draco raised a leering eyebrow at her. "A know-it-all Mudblood? Listen to yourself, Granger. You're assimilating the prejudices you stand against. Our prejudices don't have to do with what we are. My fellow Slytherins and I share that prejudice. It's something we have in common. But there's nothing alike about us."

Hermione frowned. "Enlighten me, Malfoy. What makes you _you,_ then? Your character? How you act?"

Draco shook his head. "As a fellow intellectual of whom I consider myself to be at least one of comprehending what I'm saying, I must say I'm disappointed you haven't figured this out. Who you are isn't about how you act, or what you say, or what you stand for. Those things can be faked easily. What matters in the long run is what's in here." Malfoy tapped his head. "What you believe in, your morals. Opinions."

Hermione frowned. "Can't you have that in common with someone?"

"No two people can have the same thoughts. They might, however, compliment each other."

Hermione scowled.

Draco smirked. "You still don't get it, do you? All I'm saying is that the differences between me and you are these- everything going on around us."

Hermione stared at him.

Draco scoffed. "Granger, can you honestly believe that if I had grown up a Mudblood I would have still grown up a Muggle-hater?"

"Of course not."

"And you, in my position, probably would be pressured to join the ranks of the Death Eaters."

Hermione frowned. "This is nature vs. nurture, Malfoy."

"In a way."

Hermione frowned. "I still don't understand something, Malfoy. Are you trying to say that people think differently than they act?"

He shrugged. "Deception isn't that hard to master, it is all around us."

"Of course _you_ would believe that!"

Draco raised one eyebrow, coldly interested. "What makes _me_ so special?"

When Hermione avoided his eyes he kept talking.

"Oh, don't you start thinking anything. That's it, Mudblood; I'm done talking for tonight. You have completely disappointed me with your lack of intellect."

Hermione snarled. "I wasn't aware I had respect to lose."

Draco shook his head pityingly. "It's not respect, fool. Start looking at the differences around you, Muddy. You'd be surprised to see the contrasting elements deceived behind the most similar things."

Draco moved to shut the door behind him in his passion.

Hermione put her foot in the door.

"Malfoy let me ask _you_ a question this time."

Draco raised his eyebrow.

"How can you say _we're_ alike if I could be deceiving you like everyone else?"

Draco broke out into a smile.

Its ferocity scared Hermione for a moment.

"Good job, Hermione. You finally found the flaw."

Hermione scoffed. "There were plenty. I just didn't want any notions that we are alike."

"Well, I don't know, Hermione." Draco replied honestly.

"We are _nothing_ alike!"

Draco shook his head. "I'm disappointed with you then, again. We just went over the fact that deception is not hard to master."

Hermione put her foot in the door again.

About to open her mouth again, Draco interrupted her fury, starting to get annoyed that their conversation still carried on. "Granger, you really want to know how I can tell you're not deceiving me? Because you are so proud of your opinions. You wear them on your sleeve. You've never had to hide them. You've only been praised for your intellect. Your biased intellect. Your knowledge of right from wrong, _principles_ they're called. You've never had to hide them. We're growing up in the same world. We can both see the flaws, Muddy. You've always had the same ideas as myself, I've been able to see. Everyone can see your opinions. In our years I've taken special note of the spirited passions of opinion you've grown for this world and compared them to my own. We can both have our opinions, Hermione, they can be as similar as they like. But you've never been able to see past my deception. And you've never _been_ in my deception. You've never had to hide your opinions from your father, friends, and…. You've never had to hide them from your enemies."

The door slammed shut.

After a moment of blindly standing there, Hermione contemplated a response.

Hermione spoke into the door, not even knowing if he could hear her, not even sure if it would matter if he heard her, if it would matter that she came up with a response.

If anything she did from that point on would ever make a difference.

"Our taste in books, would that fall under what we have in common or how we are alike?"

_What about our hatred for each other?_

_-_

Hermione and Draco ignored each other for three days.

Well.

More like they _avoided_ each other.

Somehow they knew when the other was about to enter the room.

Neither of them really knew whether the other one was really avoiding them.

For all they knew the other wanted to talk to them.

Neither wanted that.

Seventh year classes were challenging but ultimately routine, the only aberration being that they were now shared with their rivaling Houses. Hermione spent each class with her friends of years but did not speak of what Malfoy had said to her, of what she had said to him. They had yet to have been introduced to her rooms, her roommates. Instead she pursued her friendships with them during class, making sure to never ever look in the direction of the male that was surely finding anything to gaze at that wasn't her. He didn't even sneer at her, or her male counterparts. The boys hardly noticed. During these classes, neither could acknowledge the other, and it seemed that only Zeus noticed this.

And as Hermione entered the room Friday night to find it empty, she knew that he was hiding in his room.

She proceeded to do the same.

-

Draco sighed.

They hadn't spoken since Tuesday.

Suspiciously enough, Zeus had not spoken to them about it.

He had barely spoken to them- rarely making appearances.

He was hardly in his room, Draco noticed.

He was never quite able to find out where the odd boy went.

Surely he couldn't already be spending all his time with another group of friends?

Draco still didn't understand why Zeus was in that position with them at all.

Why couldn't he just get fucking sorted?

…

Draco wasn't deceiving himself into thinking about other things.

He thought about what he'd said that night all week.

He hadn't forgotten one word.

He hadn't even forgotten those tiny, whispered words she had spoken into the door, the same door he had leaned against directly after he let his words loose.

He didn't regret them, per se.

He didn't feel that they had made that much of a difference.

Well.

That's a lie for sure.

But… it wasn't that big of a deal.

If she wanted to go all out and avoid him she could.

Sure as hell wasn't Draco's problem.

Right?

Right.

Opening the door to the common room, he heard rushed footsteps upon the stairs.

Yes. She was definitely avoiding him.

He wasn't avoiding her.

No, he wasn't doesn't anything wrong.

If she confronted him, he wouldn't back off.

Right?

Right.


	10. Chapter 10

Woot! Another crazy dramatic and oh-so-reflecting chapter!

* * *

Hermione sighed as she leaned against the door she had just slammed shut.

Moving slowly around her room, Hermione found that she had nothing to do. Without the option of homework, sleep, or access to the common room Hermione was a very dull girl.

Half fearing to step into the library, Hermione succumbed to staring at the ceiling of her room.

But the bland, bland white was dull enough for Hermione to wish that she had chosen more appropriate colors.

With sudden inspiration in mind, she looked around at her dull, peaceful room.

With just a flick of her wand, Hermione was faced with the terrors of pure, pure white walls surrounding the perimeter of an empty room. Wincing, Hermione whisked herself something she hadn't used in a few years.

Dabbing her paint brush in the acrylic paint, Hermione bit her lip and started on her eastern wall.

-

Hermione's smile was all to herself as she lay in the origin of her room, staring up at her ceiling, now an orgasm of clouds, pink and gold.

Sitting up, Hermione wiped her cheek as she proudly looked upon her abstract walls.

"You've got something on your cheek here."

Hermione gasped as she felt a hand from behind her. Whipping around, Hermione was faced with- Ron?

Laughing in relief, Hermione flung herself in his arms, quickly surrounding her as he embraced her in his warmth.

Holding her at an arms length, Ron grinned as she playfully glared up at him.

"You know Hermione," he said huskily, "glaring at me won't work when you've got that adorable streak of yellow paint across your cheek."

Both breaking into grins, Hermione finally started thinking straight.

"How did you get here?"

"I was watching an episode of Harry's "X-Files" DVDs and there was this guy that stretched so small he could crawl through house's ventilation systems and ate people's livers so he could hibernate for another thirty years. I was wondering how badly you'd freak out if I crawled out of your air-duct."

At the sight of Hermione physically shrinking from him, Ron gave up his straight face and pulled her to the open window, where his loyal broom was patiently waiting his return. Seeing the magical cleaning companion floating outside her window, Hermione grasped the window frame and did not allow Ron to cart her onto his chariot.

"I don't fly."

"Well, neither does superman, he's just not used to the low gravity."

Looking at Ron quizzically, Hermione wondered how he could know such trivial Muggle trivia.

Seeing her expression, Ron grinned sheepishly. "Ok, so I've been watching _a lot_ of Harry's dvds."

In her moment of weakness, Ron lifted her into his arms and, before she could physically protest, they were levitating just outside her window.

Letting out an un-lady-like squawk, Hermione buried herself into Ron's chest as his chest rumbled with his laughter.

"_What on Earth_ made you think I would agree to this?"

"Nonsense Hermione, I knew you wouldn't. That's why I brought handcuffs."

Once again seeing her expression, her face barely lifted from the sanctuary of his chest, Ron guffawed. "We need to hang out more Hermione; you've completely lost your sense of humor!"

Refusing to believe that anything was out of the ordinary, Hermione puffed out her chest and, in her second of confidence, forgot that they were zooming over the Great Lake.

"We hung out on Wednesday!"

Ron frowned at her. "Listen to yourself, 'Mione! Letting me copy your homework-superb by the way-every few days does not constitute being friends! …and yeah, I got so bored I learned that word from my hours of 'X-Files!'"

As they settled to a spot on the edge of the lake, Hermione faced away from him as she dealt with this fact.

Speaking softly as he approached her from behind, Hermione spoke the most truth she had uttered in weeks.

"I wish there was something I could say to help the situation. But my words do not speak as loudly as my actions. I've been a snob, Ron, I know. I won't blame it on school or Malfoy or the fact that I've got Head duties. I want to say nothing's changed, that it never will. But I have no right to promise that. And you know I _can't_ make that promise-"

"Things don't have to change, Hermione. We'll always be-"

"_No,_ Ron. You don't know it either. You can't say we won't be best friends forever. How can you say that when, if we don't see each other for a few weeks, we start to forget about each other?"

Ron stepped in front of her, his face scrunched up in anger and disbelief.

"Are you bloody mad? You _forget about me_? That's _fucked up_, Hermione, I sure as hell don't forget about you!"

"Give it _up,_ Ron, we're not exactly the best of friends anymore!"

Ron was about to yell, about to continue his rant with his famous Weasley temper. But hearing her words caused a cry to utter from his mouth, a hurt in his eyes like no other. Biting his lip in his fury, he shook his head and the tears out of his eyes as he looked to the sky above them.

"No, Hermione, I guess not."

Reaching forward, Ron grasped her neck in one hand and roughly pulled her to him with the other.

Crushing his lips upon hers, Ron let his tears let loose from his closed eyes, for he knew that hers were open in shock.

Pulling himself away before she got the chance to push him, Ron did not look to her face, knowing that whatever expression he saw would haunt his ego for the rest of his life.

"I don't want things to change, 'Mione. As much as I want more, I was always happy with the fact that you could care about me as a friend. Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I kissed you like I did, and Harry always told me-" Ron's voice broke-"he always told me that you would love me more as a friend than as a lover, that you respect a friend more." Ron swung his hurt eyes to her own, and for the first time he noticed that her dark brown eyes were blessed with hues of dark green, like moss on a fallen tree. "But if you can't be my best friend, if you can't humor me into thinking that we'll always be in situations where we can openly love each other, then I never want to be in anything less."

With a final shake of his head, Ron walked away from her quickly crumpling figure.

"Ron…" she whispered to his retreating figure, mounting his broom- but he was too stubborn to hear her cry, she was too stubborn to plead any louder.

-

Draco, at the same time, was watching the entire scene from his window and, although he was not blessed with exceptional hearing, he knew she was crying.

The smirk that crossed his cynical features was genuine as she stumbled towards the Quidditch pitch.

-

Wiping her eyes in her pride, Hermione quickly thought through the possibilities that Harry might be on the pitch at this hour.

As she neared the field, her heart fell. There were no players in the air. But she continued her journey, perhaps climbing to the top of the stands and looking at her surroundings would be moving enough to get her to calm down.

As she neared the locker rooms, she heard familiar laughter.

Her heart soared as she recognized Harry's soft laughter and Ginny's full-stomach bellows.

Smiling truly past her tears, Hermione followed the sounds into a room near the back of the boy's locker room, quickly planning to pretend to call points from Gryffindor because Ginny was in the locker room of the wrong gender.

But her smile fell onto the floor as she turned the corner, to the two's surprise, and, to Hermione's surprise, she found them half-naked and amidst passing a joint to one another.

Within the shocked faces, Hermione was trying to keep a grasp on reality.

_My best friends are smoking pot in the back of a musty locker room. I am Hermione Granger. I am Muggle born, Head Girl, and have strong morals. My best friends are fond of calling me the Virgin Mary. _

_My best friends are smoking pot in the back of a musty locker room._

Using her acting skills to be nonchalant, Hermione smoothed a wrinkle out of her clothes and straightened her Head Girl badge.

"Three hundred points from Gryffindor."

_My two best friends are smoking pot in the back of a musty locker room._

_That's pathetic._

Feeling only slightly proud of herself, Hermione questioned what else could go wrong today.


	11. Chapter 11

I owe complete homage to JK Rowling and the director of Count of Monte Cristo for the glory of this chapter.

* * *

Malfoy chuckled to himself. He had almost forgotten that today was Friday.

Catherine was due over around this time… or was it Cindy? Ah well, he'd find out…

Wanting to make an excellent impression, he had dressed up. He had thrown on a silk dress shirt, plus his usual, ironed attire.

He was supposed to take her on a walk around the lake, innocent enough… so for the sake of humoring her he had prepared a cloak… but in truth he never expected to leave the common room couch.

It would make it easier to laugh when he caught Hermione sitting on something he'd christened.

Hearing a knocking at his door, he figured it was her.

And _early_. Hmm, someone's eager.

With that cocky thought in mind, he strutted to the doorway and leaned casually against the wall before opening the door with a smirk.

But instead of the tall, tanned, skinny blonde he found himself with a rather short, fair, curvaceous brunette, who presently pushed herself upon him slightly, engaging him in a lingering, soft kiss.

Having lost all enthusiasm, Malfoy, after a moment of blank staring, turned, tossed his cloak to the side, and left the door open.

She timidly entered, something new for her.

"Draco…" She started.

He stepped further into the room, unbuttoning his robe, but only for the sake that it was getting hot.

The room, he noticed, was suddenly dark and very, very quiet. The windows to the east seemed to cause the only light, enchanted to flect strong moonlight into the room, echoing shadows and bright white light unto them all.

The furniture, so long ago looking comfy and casual, now seemed to look like dark ghosts drifting around the common room.

"What do you want, Pansy." It was not a question. It was a tired, tired statement.

"I want to be free of you, as you are so obviously free of me. Just a few questions- and I will be out of your life forever."

Draco turned to her expectantly, keeping his voice even. "Ask your questions."

Pansy sat gingerly upon a chaise. After a moment of looking around tearfully, she looked to him. "What has changed?"

Draco scoffed. "Is that your question? If you wouldn't object, I have a lot on my mind." Draco walked towards the dark end of the common room, heading towards the desks and fireplace.

"What happened?" Raising her voice, Pansy spoke strongly, through her voice still threatened to break.

"Much." His voice echoed dismally, loudly, but it was emotionless.

Indignant, Pansy allowed her voice to become slightly stubborn as she stood and headed towards him. "Why did you not come to me?!"

Furious, Draco turned on her. "And why did you not wait! You went to the very man-"

"You left me! You hurt me and left me and ultimately threw me out on the curb! It was what _you_ did, it was cold, Draco, emotionless! I wanted…" Pansy let out a dry sob. "I wanted _revenge._"

Draco scoffed, sounding bitter and ironic. "Well you got it. Why turn back now?"

"I was confused, Draco! I thought you were dead! I only… I only thought that if I could tell myself that it was best that you had died, that you had been nothing to me! And… the way things ended… I needed to pull my mind from you…"

Draco whisked his wand out of his pocket and lit a fire in the hearth. "So you could live in denial while I was out risking my life for _us?_"

"Draco," she tried to speak evenly but her voice rose as she grew more passionate, "when you left you made it very clear that there _was_ no US! You told me that you never meant any of it!"

Draco did not answer her. He did not face her. Taking his wand, he magicked some Firewhiskey from his room and poured himself a glass.

Still he did not answer her.

Pansy started slowly. "I know you were having Chelsea over this afternoon." With that information, Pansy let her voice raise as she came to her point, her accusation. "Don't try to tell me that _you_ aren't in denial! I know you miss me, and I'm sorry about what happened. You know that! You know I don't want to hurt you!"

Draco turned to her. "You just now admitted you did! Pansy I cannot believe that you expect me-"

"I _did_ want to hurt you Draco. Much as you hurt me. It was fruitless. And it only hurt _me_ in the end and… I'm sorry. So, _so_ sorry. I don't think you could ever understand how much I hate hurting you. I care about you so much, your pain affects me _so much._ Because of that…. I could never hurt you Draco, I couldn't… only in your leave could I hope to. To hurt my image of you, to spoil it so that when I lay in bed at night, alone and awake, I won't think of you. I won't try to wish things had ended better. I wouldn't…. so I wouldn't miss you… I'm sorry. It was selfish of me to try to forget my love for you… I'm sorry…"

Draco sat upon the couch, Pansy still near pleading on her knees, Draco mumbling to himself softly. "You're only sorry because now _you're _the one that made the mistake."

Pansy kneeled herself before him. "Not _that _again, Draco… How can you still bother your mind with that? Let it _go,_ Draco, _let it go," _she pleaded, trying her best to make him understand. "When… when you hurt me... It was a long time ago. Way before any of this. And you've told me so many times that you didn't mean it. So many times, and I hate to see you hurt yourself over something that is no longer causing any pain to me…"

"But how can I forgive you when I find that I myself have caused this mess by-"

Pansy ushered a finger to his lips. "Don't say it. Don't. I'm willing to let that go… but I need you to know that… Draco, I still love you. I never stopped! Let's just let this all go! I know you want it as much as I do. When I was… I just…. O Gods Draco I just wanted to forget about you…"

As Pansy near collapsed near his ankles, Draco bit his lip, looked to the stormy ceiling, and looked back down at her.

He stood and walked to the door. He opened it for her as a sign of what was meant to be, trying to make a strong statement.

Shaking, Pansy extricated herself from the floor, and, wiping her face, made her way to the door.

When she was almost through the door, Draco stopped her.

"Tell me, Pansy… If you never stopped loving me-"

"I never did, Draco I never-"

"Then how long, how long after I left for the war did you pursue Blaise Zabini?"

Pansy stopped still. She looked to Draco with sad, desperate eyes. And in a shaking voice, she responded to the question they both knew the answer to. "That isn't fair."

"Yet the fact remains that right after I left to fight alongside my father and even _your_ father, you ran to that TRAITOR! To be comforted by the very man who tried to sell myself, my father, and _your_ father to the goddamned Ministry!"

Draco's voice by now had risen to a hysterical level, and Pansy tried to keep her tears in duct during his speech, but she finally opened up. "I couldn't stay with my father! They would have caught me too! Blaise- Blaise offered me a way out!"

"And it was to sell everything that meant anything to the very man you_ 'never stopped loving!_ We all knew that without _your_ word, we would never be in any imprisonment! We could have been free, Pansy, free! We could have left this stupid school and lived on our own, or with our parents, or wherever! But in the single action of going to the blasted traitor-"

"Don't talk about him like that!"

Draco grabbed her flailing wrists and twisted them tightly in his grip. "I don't believe you! You tell me you always loved me yet every action you ever composed tells me that you couldn't care less about me, about _us_, and about every damn thing you said today! Pansy you know damn well that that bastard- and yes he is a goddamned bastard!- only wanted you to sell us all out! I don't know what you did to make him save _you_, maybe you fucked his brains out-"

"Stop it! Stop it, just stop it!"

At Pansy's tearful, pleading shriek Draco did, in fact, stop. Blank, he loosened his grip as he realized that he had been wrenching her wrists. Looking down, he noticed with shock that he had left marks. "I… didn't mean to hurt you…"

Finding meaning behind his words stronger than their trivial physical pain, Pansy's eyes, desperately seeking sanctuary, looked to his. "I know Draco… I know… and… I didn't mean to either…. Please, let your vengeance go…. Let it go… you never have to speak to me again but don't live on in such an angry way."

Draco looked down in defeat and let his voice fall to a whisper. "What good will it do me to forgive?"

"We could work, Draco, we could love again… but you have to let your hate lose all importance in your life, Draco. You can't live on like this, and neither can I…" Pansy tried to compose herself as she seemed to come to a point in her speech. "That is why I came tonight… I just want… If you could never love me again, then don't hate me. Don't hate Blaise. Don't hate your father or Him or anybody… forget your hate-"

"If you ever loved me" Draco started off strong… but then diminished. "Don't-don't rob me of my hate. It's all that I have left."

"No, Draco, its not…" Pansy slipped her hand over his heart and looked deep into his eyes, eyes that had only hoped to see the floor moments before, that now saw Pansy in all her humiliation, all her pride fallen and her honest love lying there, for him to take.

She tiptoed to her full height and spoke in a soft whisper. "I could never stop loving you. Please tell me you feel the same."

But it was not a plea, nor a demand. Pansy spoke these vows to Draco and kissed his cheek before finally turning and swiftly shutting the portrait behind her without a backwards glance.

Draco stood there for a moment more, then turned away from the door and back into the common room, where the clashing patterns of the thundering rain and hail from above only formed a background for the many thoughts echoing in his mind.

…

Zeus stepped in front of him, thunder striking, lightning filling the room.

Blowing the entire room into light and sound.

Awakening the senses.

Zeus grinned.

Awakening paranoia.

His smile was not in good nature.

It was malicious-gleeful at what he had just witnessed.

"Sounds like you had quite a summer."

Awakening anger.

Draco froze. Zeus had addressed him and he had nothing to say…

"…stay out of it."

But Zeus was… different, at that moment… different than he'd ever thought of the boy.

And Draco realized that this was the first time he had confronted the boy alone.

Walking powerfully to Draco, Zeus spoke in a deadly, passionate whisper.

"It is not my business to be in your love life. It is not my business to care about what side you fought on. But, the next time a crying Pansy comes to your doorstep, you might find that turning her down… could be deadly…"

Draco looked dead level at the boy across from him.

His words did not suit him; his playful, mischievous manner did not compliment these words.

And as Draco watched, Zeus assumed that character, grinned, winked at him, before settling himself back to his room.

_Deception isn't that hard to master, it is all around us._

Awakening fear.


	12. Chapter 12

Ello my unresponsive poppets!

I'm loving the 690 hits on this story, and two reviews-one of which, might I add, was from my_self_, how ludicrously pathetic.

I've just reread my story, I like where things go after all this. This chapter's okay, I love what will soon become chapters seventeen and thirteen.

Enjoy!

* * *

Closing the door steadily behind him, Draco entered the room confidently and started to unbutton his short collar when-

_What the hell?_

…

_She's here…_

Abandoning his task, Malfoy sneered and addressed the girl sitting on his bed.

"What the hell do you think you're doing on _my_ bed, Muddy?"

Granger seemed unfazed, but stood nonetheless. She motioned to the door.

"I heard… everything, I guess."

"How could you be sure you heard everything?" Hermione was silent and Draco illuminated his room.

Granger raised a hand to her face to block out the light, and Draco took a step towards her direction.

Granger stiffened, and her hand remained blocking her face.

Draco sneered at her defense.

"Get out, bitch."

Hermione lowered her arm and glared at him, and he knew it wasn't for the bright light.

Draco sighed, exasperated. "As Head Boy I'm telling my fellow peer that she has no business in-"

"And _as your fellow peer_ I'm telling you that when tears and threats occur in my own common room-"

"_Your_ common room, is it? I have rights to my own business and even if I didn't I wouldn't appreciated a snot like you snooping-"

Hermione was taken aback, and in a horrified voice she screeched at him, "I _hardly_ consider it _snooping_ when-"

"_Get over it!_" Hermione stopped and stared at Draco for a moment before the fact that she stopped talking made itself apparent in his mind.

Draco leaned his face against a wall and put his hand to his temple.

"Just… stay out of it, Granger. It doesn't concern you, nor will it ever." Draco sounded tired, exhausted that the night was not over yet.

Despite his change of tone, Hermione's nose shot into the air.

"I think you are mistaken."

He glared silently at her, causing her reproachful look to dim.

"Well I don't _want_ you in it, so keep to yourself."

Draco stood up and moved towards his bed, already dismissing her.

Granger stiffened as he passed her but did not turn to him.

"If you don't talk to me about it then I will be forced to inform Dumbledore-"

Draco snorted. "Dumbledore- every Mudblood's wet-dream." Draco turned to her, although she did not face him.

"I don't believe you, anyways. You'd run off and go tell Dumbass and Loose-ass about my love life." Draco smirked at his crude joke. "10 Galleons if you know who's who."

Hermione finally turned to him. "Stop ignoring me, I'm serious. If you tell me what on Earth just happened with Pansy and Zeus then I swear I won't tell a soul."

Draco sneered at her request. "I'm supposed to take your word on this?"

"There's nothing else I could offer."

Draco flopped back onto his mattress and Hermione found herself growing uncomfortable.

"Why do you care so much?"

Hermione stuck her nose indignantly in the air. "I have my reasons."

Draco sat up. "I don't think so. You tell me now."

Hermione didn't answer him.

"Figures. I bet a brainiac like you would find a loophole and go running to pothead so you could have a good laugh, yeah?"

Hermione was about to open her mouth but he silenced her with his own words.

"Doesn't matter anyways, this is probably your way of creating a truce after our little disagreement last week, and no way in hell is that going to happen."

Draco stood up and headed to his library door, while Hermione was left to respond to him.

"And why not?"

Draco opened the door and held his arm into the direction of her room.

"Because whatever stupid little pact you came up with, I can't, don't, won't trust you."

Hermione was not looking into the doorway; she was looking at the floor at her feet.

"What about an Unbreakable Vow?"

Draco froze and turned to her as her eyes slowly reached his.

"_What?_" He spoke softly, incredulously.

Hermione licked her lips nervously. "I can keep a secret. I won't ever mention a word about you to anyone, ever, not even to call you a smelly ferret, and you…"

Draco hung onto her every word.

"You have to tell me what's going on in your life."

Draco's interest disappeared, and his features turned to disgust. "What the hell are you on, Muddy? Why would you want to know and _why_ would I tell you? Is this some kind of pity-project, some kind of Gryffindor act of unity? Some kind of stupid joke? It's not funny. Well guess what, I don't need you, nor do I need you blabbing about-"

Hermione, indignant, reacted with confusion and disgust. "What's _your_ problem, Malfoy? All I am doing is offering you a promise that you can talk to me-"

"_I don't want to!_ I don't think _that_ could be anymore obvious!"

"But I wouldn't even tell anyone!"

"For Christ's sake, Granger, I don't want _you_ to know either, you're just as bad as having Weasel and Potter on my back!"

Granger narrowed her eyes at him and scrunched up her mouth. "What have you got to hide?"

"Evidently a lot if you're going to keep badgering me about it! I don't need a best friend, Granger; I _don't_ need someone to talk to about my poor, pathetic, teenage problems!"

Having reached a moment of silent glaring, Hermione made her way to the door.

"So Draco, what do you have to have to be friends with someone? Do you have to have something in common or be alike?"

Draco stiffened and swung his twitching glare to her. "Get out."

Hermione raised her nose in the air again, _hmph_ed to his general direction, but walked out.

Shutting the door behind her and rubbing his temples, Draco walked to the bed.

Groping underneath, he pulled out his new broom.

Walking over to a large, glass paned window, he swung it open and looked up at the miserable moon.

Not risking a look back, he kicked off into the bitter coldness, from which he would not leave until the threat of dawn breached him.

-

Hermione woke early the next morning to the bittersweet swooning of the birds outside her window, proclaiming that love was in the air, like an all too optimistic horoscope, that only made oneself disappointed at the end of the day, with love lost.

Frowning to herself, Hermione ignored this natural pessimistic approach to her day, there was no reason to assume that today would be a total failure.

Throwing on a smile, she knew that _thinking_ she was happy would work. _Thinking _that nothing was wrong would help her breeze past her 'friends.' And, thinking of Malfoy, her 'enemies' too.

This newfound confidence allowed her to wear her new brown t-shirt, previously deemed too tight by her own modest standards.

Slipping her feet into authentic tanker boots and her favorite jeans, she was ready to face her day.

The fake smile was not strong enough to hold onto her surprise when she saw what was in front of her door- previously unnoticed.

Bending down to retrieve the unexpected decoration, Hermione glanced around her room in paranoia- windows latched, doors locked, and seemingly no mischievous characters hiding under her carpet- before placing the rose in a vase and reading the note over and over again before arriving at lunch.

_I can only apologize for yesterday. Do not forget the true qualities that create the spirit behind someone's cold eyes. If you understand the true meaning of another, then you will not find it impossible to speak to me tonight in the common room._

In her confusion, Hermione forgot to fake a smile as she walked briskly through the hallways to breakfast, where surely the author awaited her arrival.

She wasn't even aware that there was a goofy smile on her face at all.

-

The author, awaiting her arrival, was not surprised to see that the letter had worked. With the possibility of anyone being the writer, she has forgotten all animosities. Meaning that she was easier to manipulate than she had thought.

Ginny grinned and waited for things to work out.


	13. Chapter 13

This is a pretty short one, but it sets things up for the next chapter.

A super dramatic one, of my favorites. Even if its not written in great depth, I love the crazy drama and the oooh-

Read this chapter, then I'll put up the next.

* * *

Draco arrived at breakfast late- until he remembered two things:

1. He was Draco Malfoy. He was never late. And

2. It was Saturday.

Making his way over to his throne Malfoy felt that today was no different from any other. The way the girls looked at him, the pretty girls that had the confidence to flirt, the way the boys either faked friendship or simply respected his presence, the way the teachers would watch him warily, waiting for some kind of dramatic welcome from the Slytherin King.

He did not disappoint. His mere stride was dramatic confidence in itself, and with a smirk steady on his face, it was not hard to treat the world like his stage.

He _was_ a Leo, after all.

-

Hermione had seated herself innocently next to Neville and Parvati, across from Dean and Lavender, who were engulfed in full-on flirting while Parvati giggled and Neville looked uncomfortable. Finding him a simple candidate for meaningless conversation, Hermione allowed herself to flirt amicably, a simple way to assure one's own friendships.

Glancing around the hall, Hermione assessed the fact that today was a Saturday, instead of why the students were whispering about the lack of points under "Gryffindor," instead of the drama caused by the entrance of the blondest kid ever, instead of the glances from her best friends.

Were they still?

Hermione didn't bother questioning herself. Finding easy enjoyment in denial, she decided that after touching Neville's arm a few more times while she spoke, laughed at Parvati's insulting commentary of Lavender's progress a few more times, and finished off her danish- she would spend the day in the library, not her own, but the school's library, for fear of running into Malfoy.

-

Ginny opened her eyes and groaned at the searing pain in her forehead.

Everyone in the school recognized the sight of the hospital wing ceiling.

Leaning to her side with her head in her hand, Ginny found that the searing pain was gone.

"Miss Weasley," an unnoticed Madame Pomfrey began, "I'm so glad you have awoken. Mr. Orcanil was quite worried about you when he dropped you off three hours ago."

"Three hours ago? But it's light outside!"

Pomfrey gave the girl a quizzical look. "What is the last thing you remember?"

"Well I ran into Zeus- Mr. Orcanil- in the entrance hall last night… right after I… umm…" Ginny blushed. How exactly was she supposed to explain _that_?

"Hmph," Madame Pomfrey sniffed, "I have, of course, taken a blood test. I am most disappointed with such a promising student as yourself; that you cannot rise above the influence of narcotics. Although it is not my place to deduct points, or alert the Headmaster, with such a case as you I would have- if not for the fact that a Miss Granger has already seemed to have done so."

Still not looking Madame Pomfrey in the face, but now looking more angry than shamed, Ginny pushed herself off the bed. "I feel fine now."

"Well good, then you'll kindly leave this bed available for more victimized students. Good day."


	14. Yay!

I'm putting this chapter up because I'm in a great mood.

I'm running away for the weekend, so I'll put this up.

Ok so here's the deal with this chapter.

It has a happy ending. The next chapter, whether this is good news for those who love angst-or bad news for those dying for fluff-will get fucked up and dramatic again.

Enjoy!

(And thank you SO MUCH to my reviewers Anne and Satannpink for their exemplary support!)

You make my inbox happy!

* * *

The history of forming medical ailments for swelling was no longer enthralling Hermione.

Instead, her gaze was drawn towards the window, the teasing sunlight dancing through it.

Glancing around, she noted that there was none other, even Madame Pince seemed to have stepped out.

She walked towards the window- stretched from floor to ceiling- and opened the iron clasp that sealed out her sunshine.

Stepping out onto the ledge, Hermione gasped as her skin met the crisp September air, slowly warming as the day went on.

The grounds were scattered with students- none that noticed her.

She leaned against the window's frame, closed her eyes, enjoyed the simple pleasure of the sunlight upon her tired eyelids, allowed her creased forehead to relax.

"Are you going to jump or not?"

Pausing heaven for just a moment, Hermione turned to see Malfoy behind her, arms crossed, wand in hand, broom beside him. There was something… odd… something off… about him. He had a half smile on his face, and his eyes were soft… in her newly found paranoia, Hermione questioned if he was high…

Hermione honestly wasn't in the mood; she didn't even have a passionate response.

She cocked her head and looked at him blankly.

"I don't know. Are you going to push me?"

Flinching at her odd reaction, Malfoy scoffed in order to regain his composure. "It's tempting, but I figure you might splatter across the whole field and kill all the grass."

Hermione scrunched up her face and faced the firmament once more, speaking to him behind her. "That was weak… What on Earth are you doing here, anyways?"

Suddenly Hermione felt him grasp her roughly, her eyes and mouth open wide in shock.

He leaned into her ear and muttered "Pushing you," before putting his weight against her and sending them both plunging over the edge, his broom forgotten.

Just as Hermione was starting to enjoy the thrill- a hand found its way to her arm and she pulled her face off the book in front of her.

Looking up, she saw Neville glancing at her curiously with concern in his eyes.

"I'm sorry I had to wake you up Hermione, you looked happy but… uhmmm…" his voice dropped, "Madame Pince was getting peeved because you… uhh, snored…"

Smiling slightly, Hermione thanked Neville and he backed away from her, causing him to walk into a bookshelf and earn a shush from Pince for his profanity.

Hermione rubbed her face.

Everything felt so real. The sunshine on her face… It felt better than real life, it felt like heaven, and actually made her happy. Is it still living if it's in a dream?

And Malfoy… _Well, no wonder he looked nice. He wasn't real. And he _still_ turned out to be a prick!_

But why would her subconscious project an image of Malfoy like that?

Ignoring herself, a skill many should be jealous of, if they were aware that Hermione was particularly adept at ignoring the traitrous corners of her mind, Hermione decided to try it again.

She walked cautiously over to the window, reached for the clasp… nothing different so far.

She glanced around behind her and across the field, she stepped out.

She had imagined there was a ledge.

There was no enjoyment this time, only the hope for a scream to rise from her throat, an arm to wake her gently-

The arm around her waist was her savior, but it was not for waking.

As gravity rearranged itself, Hermione was pushed against the broomstick and the rider.

Should her subconscious be right, she might go mad.

And as Malfoy wrapped his arm around her waist, she questioned if she just might be already

-

Something had told him to glance to the library windows. It was completely random, but he would never accept it as a sign, just something _completely random_.

He had been doing his rounds, circling the school until it was time for lunch.

He had seen the mousy brown haired girl plunge, and did not question why, not why she dropped, not why he knew to look, not why it was an immediate, compassionate reaction to fly as fast as he could to catch her.

The fact that it was Granger changed nothing. Because he hadn't done anything. She just happened to interrupt his route, that's all.

As he clung her against him, he noticed she was pushing herself into him- which surprised him. But since it was Granger, he ignored it. Because chances are she wanted him like the rest of the school, and chances are she would deny it the second he brought it up.

Might as well have some fun with her, because even though she had been driving him nuts, it was interesting to him to see that someone listened when he rambled off linguistically.

Steering them towards the lake, he stopped right in the middle, and Hermione stiffened.

Suddenly he had her on the edge of the broom, his hands against her shoulders, and he leaned forward into her ear. "Can I push you?"

Hermione felt that her head was going to explode. Her mouth was agape, and she glanced back at Malfoy, but she saw the mirth on his face and she immediately put malice into her own smirk.

Not bothering to respond, Hermione grabbed his wrists and used her momentum to pull him into the lake with her.

Malfoy's girlish squeal was silenced as he submerged, and Hermione surfaced, laughing as she spat the water from her mouth, the lake water warm from baking in the sunlight.

As he surfaced beside her with a strand of plant growth in his hair, Hermione was almost unable to stay afloat in her laughter. "Draco Malfoy, unable to hold onto his broom! Just whatever will Slytherin do without you?"

He glared at her, glanced to the far off spectators on the shore, who seemed to walk away quickly- and reached into his pockets for his wand- when he remembered that he had taken advantage of the wand holder on his broom- which was levitating ten feet above the surface of the water. "Shut up Muddy, you're the one who got us into this mess."

"_Moi? _I think not, gopher brain."

"Oh really, should I have just let you splatter across the cement?"

Hermione blushed. "I didn't mean to jump, for your information." But she had too much pride to admit to her folly, and instead she was satisfied with splashing him in the face and pulling out her wand.

"_Accio broom!"_

When nothing happened, Malfoy scoffed. "You don't think I wouldn't have a security lock on it? It won't answer to you."

Hermione sent him a seething look. "Then _you_ do it!"

But Malfoy faked a concerned look, "Well golly gee Her-mi-on-e, I don't seem to have my wand on me." With that, he grabbed hers and pushed her away when she tried to retrieve it. "Accio broom!"

When still nothing happened, Hermione mocked him. "_My_ wand won't work for _you_; I've got a security lock on it."

With that final remark, Draco presented it to her roughly. Hermione glanced at it, then him, then the wand again. "You know, if I take the spell off it, and you get your bloody broom, I don't think I'll be getting a ride on that broom. Or my wand back."

"Exactly right, Mudblood."

She scowled at him and treaded water in a circle, trying to decide which shore was closer-which was futile because he somehow got them in the immediate center of the lake- and started swimming towards land.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm getting out of here before you say something else useless."

Immediately Malfoy was swimming beside her and shoved her head underwater. When she resurfaced, he was meters ahead. "No one shows up a Malfoy!"

Scoffing at his cockiness, Hermione put on a burst of speed and caught up with him just as he reached the shore. And even though Hermione was the first up- "Ha! I told you!"

Hands on her hips, Hermione looked at him unbelievingly. "I was here first!"

As Malfoy clambered clumsily next to her-his robes were heavy and uncomfortable- he stood before her and glared contemptuously down at her. "You can't defeat _me_."

Shoving her into the sand, he tickled her sides with one hold, held her arm with the other and, breathless, she tried to roll him off of her, squirming into the soft earth below her.

When she managed to get him to stop, she looked up at him with a half-smile…

Until she saw he was smiling back.

Creasing her forehead quizzically, Hermione looked straight into his eyes and asked- "Why are you being so different?"

Something immediately clamped shut over the softness in his eyes as he pushed himself off her, roughly, stood up, and started dusting off his robes, futile for the fact that it was more mud than sand.

Hermione looked up at him, outraged, and he denied her. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're acting different to me. Why? A few days ago… a few days ago you were awkward being in the same room as me. Why… why all this?"

He glanced down at her, his nose in the air. "If this is me being different, I must be a new kind of different every day. Does that make sense to you?"

Hermione nodded, and looked out across the lake emptily.

"Hermione… do you see any benefit to keeping your animosities?"

Hermione scowled up at him, ready to divulge into a rant of how he treated her. That if he was going to be a bitch then she would respond accordingly.

But he glanced down at her seething rage and continued with a blank face. "I guess I do too."

Malfoy called his broom to him with a simple wave of his hand. Everything would have been fine if she had not made it so serious; he was just toying with her.

He dropped her wand in front of her. "You look like a drowned rat, Mudblood. I hope I am the reason you are so very miserable."

With that, Malfoy left her to cry, and as she watched him walk away, she noticed that he did not look back to her as he mounted his broom and flew away, out over the forbidden forest- just as Ron had done not so long ago.

_If he can't make a big deal about it then neither can I._

Deciding that walking in her drowned glory would be suitable for her thoughts, Hermione made her way up to the castle. At one point she stopped-and she saw the youngest Weasley fuming towards her.

Before Hermione could respond, Ginny had shoved her roughly. "You think I'm stupid for having stupid teenage fun with Harry? _You're_ the one romping around with Malfoy! I don't believe you!"

Hermione couldn't tell if she saw the slap coming or not, but seconds after impact she wished she had. As Ginny stormed away, Hermione collapsed onto the steps below her.

She wondered how long she could stay there, if she would feel better if she just let herself cry to the sympathetic cement below her.

Hearing a soft sound beside her, her tears cleared enough for her to see the proud form of Malfoy just before he spat in front of her.

"Could you get any more pathetic?"

Hermione shook her head, looked to the ground below her, rejected by everything and everyone.

When she raised her arm to wipe her face, she noticed that Draco was still standing before her, but did not look up to him, instead crying out her anguish, hiccupping. "Why torment me, Malfoy, isn't breaking me enough?" Finding some kind of pride in her words, she gained the audacity to look up to him with adamancy.

Offering a gloved hand out to her, offered a blank expression, he gestured for her to rise.

Placing her hand in his, her tears ceased, and she only stared at him.

"I will not engage us into another argument of what is alike and what is in common- only that the idea that there is more behind this trivial rivalry we compel ourselves in… whatever it is, it is real. I will not have you jumping out a window before I can figure out why."

Hermione stared into him, trying to memorize every word he said.

"It is…" Hermione stabled her voice. "It is something that… that must be found out. It will drive me mad, and I need to know why."

Malfoy took his hand back from hers and held the door open for her. "Precisely. We have every reason to pursue this- this… discovery. It is imperative to understand, for our own peace of minds."

_I am not alone…_


	15. Chapter 15

-sigh-

My plans for this weekend fell through.

Fortunately I have pizza-and a great reviewer!

Thank you to **fawn**! And even though I'm probably not supposed to personally respond, this is stuff that all y'all that **read and don't review** should hear anyways!

1. the m rating wont take place for a while-this story isn't for smut but I _am_ planning on a lemon later on, unless I get reviewers that say **no!** (which I doubt, but hey maybe then I'll get more than four-even though all the ones I've received have been heartwarming, thanks so much!)

2. This chapter... I'm not sure how I feel about it. As an author I try not to involve myself in my work but after discovering what I had made Hermione do in this chapter (and no she doesn't fuck malfoy) I wasn't sure if it would be appropriate to change it around, so this 'situation' may be temporary! If you've read the chapter and still dont know what I'm talking about, go to the homepage on my profile and check out my picture!

3. I have just written my most heartbreaking chapter, and

4. I went through my 'stats'. My story has 1179 hits, 2 favs and 3 alerts. So I'm browsing through my readers and very few have written stories. So I'm thinking that maybe you guys don't understand that writers _need_ feedback or else they discontinue their story or kill off their characters. And since I've just reach a climax in the story, it could make a lot of sense to give this story an unhappy ending.

So please review! I'm a miserable despondent teenager that can't get a job! (But I love all my readers anyways, especially if you _like_ my story )

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"Are you sure you want to do this?" 

Hermione glanced into the mirror at him. "Why should you care?"

"So that you don't hunt me down when you regret it."

She shrugged. "You don't have to if you're too weak." She smirked, she knew that would work.

They were in Hermione's room, before her unused vanity. This was the first time Malfoy had been in her room since her passionate makeover- and he didn't know if he liked it. Every stroke of paint… was each an expression of Granger's emotions- and he didn't support such open passion.

When Malfoy did not respond to Hermione, Hermione looked into the mirror and found that Malfoy was doing the same. It was actually a bit of a sight, to see them together like that. For as much as they seemed to compliment each other, Malfoy was the embodiment of royal, stuck up pride… and Hermione, with her bushy hair and kind expressions- was only the opposite.

Falling into character, Malfoy sneered. "You'll look even worse afterwards."

Hermione smirked, understanding the role she had to play. "Vanity isn't the point-but you wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

Malfoy half smiled, steadied his hands, and took the scissors to her hair.

-

When Hermione arrived at lunch, alone, the hall somehow seemed to silence on impact.

But she did not stop in her pursuit.

Among the whispers about her newly shaved head, Hermione headed to the table she shared with Malfoy and Zeus- previously ignored.

Seating herself next to Zeus and across from Malfoy, the whispers turned into full blown gossiping, and she could see many students rising out of their seats to get a better look at her.

Malfoy only sneered half-heartedly at the attention given to her, but Zeus seemed struck.

The first words out his mouth were- "I _do_ hope you donated your rare locks?"

Hermione gave him a small smile, speaking softly. "Of course."

Malfoy snorted. "I don't think even _they_ want it."

Zeus ignored him and beamed at Hermione as he leaned over to plant a kiss on her prickly head. "You still look positively regal."

Things were not perfect, not really. But for the first time in a week, Hermione had some kind of hope that something, _something_ was going to work out, for _herself_. Some kind of strange independence was welcoming her, allowing Hermione to welcome herself. Draco still pretty much ignored her, Zeus flirted amiably, and she was aware that the three people she had always expected would be beside her side at a time like this- were doing their best to ignore her- all for different reasons.

But she was going to try and figure things out. And if she didn't succeed, if things didn't work out, she could be stronger without it. She was alive right now, wasn't she?

-

Draco wasn't really sure why he had done it. Why he had helped her when it was so obvious she could just break.

But seeing her rejected by Weaselette, someone who should be her best friend… it struck a chord in him. And for the entire idea that she was weak, he could not stand the fact that she might just drop out of a window. And then he could never know…

He could never know what went through her head when she thought of him.

He would not be able to understand if he should bother considering this a worthy pursuit, to discover what exactly made her an enemy.

The people he loathed… were not quite his enemies. Potter, Weasley… they weren't threats. They weren't equals. The bald girl in front of him… she was a challenge, but he needed to know if it was possible for someone to think like he did.

If there was no one, then he would remain stoic and alone.

But should she mimic his train of thoughts, the thoughts that keep him up all night…

Then it just might be necessary for him to consider her an equal, even if she was still a rival. To consider the fact that she also thinks she is alone.

So he was going to devote his time to figuring out if she was worth his time…

Malfoy frowned to himself and instead bit into his sandwich. He didn't have any answers. That was why he was doing this in the first place.

-

She didn't really want to make a big deal out of it. Hair was a nuisance to her… While she was lucky she had a well shaped head, she feared the responses she would receive from her parents, teachers… she knew it would grow back, she had nothing to fear.

With such an easing thought in mind, Hermione glanced to Draco, who seemed to enjoy sneering at the attention givers, which, Hermione supposed, was something he was rather used to doing.

As if the attention were directed at himself. Hermione would _have_ to admit that his behavior changed something for her, something was negated from her fears and she found herself telling him to 'c_ut it all off, all of it,' _feeling a need to dispel herself from any superficial pursuits, and this was just the first of many obstacles she had overcome. _Vanity._

Shaking her head, hoping she would get used to the feeling of air reaching her scalp and neck, Hermione rid herself of her fickle thoughts, focusing on a question she was sure to encroach.

_Why_ she had done it, she didn't care for, and surely that would be the most popular question. But _why she had been able to_, a question of her fears and inhibitions and abilities…

For this she glanced to Malfoy again, who had seemingly grown bored with stretching his mouth to resemble disgust, for he was now fully consumed in keeping the white frosting of his carrot cake from coating his mouth, such a ravenous speed at which he ate.

Hermione allowed herself a small smile she didn't notice, the first of many that would be caused of noticing Malfoy's aberrant behavior, and brought the word to mind again.

_Fear_ is what should be associated with Voldemort, early morning Monday tests, and the outcome of encounters with your old best friends, like the one she was sure to face tonight.

_Fear_ would no longer have any connection to the wizard in front of her…

Displacing her attention to her own food, Hermione questioned this thought that _should_ ease her mind.

Malfoy was her… he was… Malfoy was no longer _hostile_ because he wanted to know of her as an enemy, because it intrigued him.

Hermione frowned deeper. _Then why all this? Won't this ruin his _experiment?

Don't we have to be _enemies_? Isn't that the point?

Had something changed?

Before she gave herself any more time to think, Hermione blurted her thoughts, only _just_ remembering not to let the rest of the pondering school hear her inquiry.

"We're not _friends_ are we?"

Malfoy's disbelief matched her own. His mouth remained agape momentarily, then he wiped his mouth and looked back to his food.

"No. No, Muddy, I'm not so sure we could ever label our connection as something so insignificant as _friendship._ You should know that."

He said nothing else, for things were just that simple for him, and he continued to eat.

Were they so for her?

Although Malfoy was not looking at her, Hermione faked a smile, feigning being reassured, relieved, and ate her food, trying not to remember not to expect anything.

_No attachments, no obligations._

Zeus glanced back and forth between them, a snarl drawing onto his face. Glancing around at the curiosity of the Great Hall, he could hardly hide his contempt, hard as he tried.


	16. Chapter 16

Wow. I really don't mean to sound like I'm bragging or anything, but... I'm a little incredulous about the 1416 hits I have on this story. Considering I have three reviewers I'm about to ask them if they keep refreshing the page.

I'm pretty mad at myself. I had written the most heartbreaking love scene and for some really stupid reason when the paperclip prompted me about whether or not to save changes, i said 'no.'

So I could use a little bit of encouragement, someone to say that I have the ability to do it again, even make it better...

:( No one wants to humor me?

Next is a big crazy dramatic chapter. I know y'all will love it, so I'll post it regardless of the fact that no one will review this chapter.

* * *

Lunch had been… awkward, to say the least. Neither Ron nor Harry said much, Ginny noticed, and she was confused as to what was going on with her brother… or it could just be that he's finally picked up the skills of empathy and knows that neither Ginny-nor Harry- were in the mood for talking.

Harry kept glancing nervous glances at Ginny, then Hermione. Ginny felt a streak of anger rise at this. He was going to break for her, she knew it. After what they had both gone through after Hermione was so… bitchy… he was going to apologize, she just knew it.

Instantly deflating as she noticed there was a tear in his eye, Ginny tried her best to remind herself that Harry did not possess the illogical, fiery Weasley temper.

Turning her attention to her potatoes with a sigh, it took all she had not to send a glance over to her best friend.

Whenever Ginny lets her emotions run her actions, logic reprimands her for eternity.

-

Hermione was jogging around the lake that afternoon, now that she was back in school there was no reason for excess poundage.

She had already set up a training schedule, and she was relatively pleased with herself for getting back on track.

She closed her eyes, feeling comfort in her route, and enjoyed the sunshine on her face- when she felt a tapping on her shoulder.

Looking beside her, ready to create a unique glare just for Malfoy- she found herself in the presence of a stranger- one she had never noticed before.

Instantly wary, Hermione surveyed him up and down- sweatpants, a muscle shirt and- green hair?

With the latter so striking, it was truly a wonder to Hermione that she had never noticed him before.

She was about to ask him of his business-when he grinned and held out a hand to her.

Hermione blinked in surprise, but as a reflex shook his hand. Grinning wider, the boy proceeded to state his reason for being there.

"Listen, I just had to come over here and introduce myself. Well okay it doesn't really matter if I introduce myself but- okay so I just had to tell you that I love that you had the balls to shave your head. Well no you're a chick you don't have balls so uhh, I think its awesome that you had the _ovaries_ to shave your head- I couldn't even shave my own head and…" He scratched the back of his head and smiled at her, not knowing what else to say.

Finally understanding why a random stranger had approached her, Hermione blushed and laughed, staring at her feet before turning her smile on him.

"Well, thank you, I guess. It's nice of you to come over here and introduce yourself-which you haven't done yet- and shake my hand instead of the non-confrontationists I was expecting. I appreciate that and… yeah…" Realizing she was rambling, Hermione blushed and could not bring herself to look into his smiling blue eyes, a shade she rarely found pleasing, too bright and clichéd.

He laughed softly at her reaction and held out his hand again, which she instantly took. "I'm Kevin. And if my memory corrects, you're Head Girl."

Hermione could not help but smile up at him. "More than that, I'm Hermione Granger. And are you a new-?"

"Who the heck are you?"

Hearing the snarl behind her, Hermione closed her eyes in dread, fearing what would occur. Kevin seemed flabbergasted.

When Malfoy appeared at her side with an arm around her shoulders, he glared at the boy. "I asked you a question, creep."

"Malfoy!" Turning herself away from Kevin, Hermione roughly pulled his arm off her shoulders.

Kevin started backing away slowly, looking between the two apprehensively. "Uhh, I'm just going to… go. It was… nice meeting you…" Kevin's voice dwindled as he started to move away, quickly.

Malfoy spat in his general direction, and muttered "Good riddance," once he was gone.

Hermione glared up at Malfoy. "What the heck is your problem?"

Malfoy looked down upon her as if it was obvious. "That guy's buddies dared him to come up to you and ask you out."

Hermione's mouth fell open slightly. Glancing in the direction Kevin had traveled, she did not see any of his 'friends.' "I don't believe you."

He raised an eyebrow at her and started jogging. "It doesn't matter if you do or not, he's long gone now."

Hermione was slightly disappointed that the only decent character she had met was only acting so because of a stupid dare.

She thought this over for a few minutes, slightly hurt, and did not answer when Malfoy asked her something, but aroused herself from her stupor when he jabbed an elbow to her ribs.

Awaking painfully, she glared at Malfoy but remained silent as he towered above her, jogging at her pace.

Malfoy smirked at her. "You should really stop spacing out; people might think you're on some kind of pill."

Hermione didn't laugh, the situation with Ginny and Harry fresh on her mind.

Draco, however, interpreted this the wrong way. Stopping abruptly, his smirk fell as he looked her straight in the face, his eyes urgent. "You _are_, aren't you…"

Hermione pulled an indignant look, disgusted at his accusation. "I am not considering myself when you suggest the topic of _drugs_."

Draco squinted slightly, searching her eyes for hints of deceit. Partially satisfied, Draco turned his face from hers slowly, keeping his eyes on hers, and brought up their jog again. "Then who?"

Hermione contemplated her response. "First I need to know your opinion of such simple escapes."

He hesitated- "If you're wary of my opinion before even telling me what the big deal is then I presume you think I'm a druglord?" Before she could move to defend herself, Draco continued in an even, steady voice. "I would offer no opinion of them unless I hadn't tried them myself. All I can say…." Malfoy's voice cracked uncharacteristically. "All I can say is that they are not something to pursue unless…. I've done… there is a tendency to do stupid things when you're not even in your right mind… but it's only natural for anyone miserable to experiment. If it benefits you mentally and emotionally, who cares about physically, anyways?" Draco spat this out bitterly, then added his actual opinion. "I guess if you really need them…"

Hermione sped up subconsciously, uncomfortable. "What if you don't need them?"

Malfoy continued at her fast pace, but looked down at her. "Then you're pathetic. Just… just deal with it…" Draco replaced his gaze to the scenery before him and asked the question that had evaded his mind since this conversation began. "So who brought it to mind?"

Hermione didn't hesitate to tell him the truth. "Harry and Ginny."

Draco stopped for the second time in their route, abruptly turning his open mouth to her. "_Pothead?_"

Hermione frowned at the nickname but said nothing; Malfoy wasn't even paying attention to her, or his ironic nickname, lost in his own thoughts. Not continuing their route, Draco stared out across the lake, let out his breath, and ran a shaky hand through his hair.

"They were… they were fooling around in the boys' locker room…"

"That's why there are no points left?" Draco smirked and gave Hermione a praised look. He then realized what she said- "Wait, what the _hell!_ I thought Zeus was all nuts over her?"

Hermione nodded and moved along with their jog. The silence was not uncomfortable, and they remained at a fair distance from each other while continuing on their run, both running individual thoughts through their heads.

Deciding to change the subject, Hermione asked him why he was out jogging.

He shrugged and smirked at her. "I don't care what anyone says, Quidditch can't keep anyone in shape. Look at all the Quidditch players- we're all pretty pathetic looking… as a Seeker, I'm supposedly better off that way but…" Malfoy shrugged again.

Hermione appreciated the fact that he did not return the question, she was in a bit of a tense mood about herself at the moment.

"Granger," Malfoy asked after a moment of silence, "Granger, do you consider yourself part of the female population of this school?"

Hermione puffed up, she was already moody about herself. "If this is some insult, Malfoy-"

"The other day, Zeus said that the female population finds me attractive."

Hermione scoffed. "Leave it to an ego as big as yours to remember something as trivial as that… you may have buffed up Malfoy, but it takes more than a six pack for me to look twice at such an asshole as yourself. What he said about your 'aura' was correct."

Draco's lip and disposition twisted at her response. "I asked you a simple question, and you feel the need to insult me! What's your problem, Granger! We were getting along just fucking dandy until you decided to open your fat mouth!"

"Excuse me?! Oh, so sorry. For once it wasn't you that had to break a perfectly tranquil moment with a lame brain, rude, instigating statement!"

"What are you all cynical about now, you fucking Mudblood?"

"There you go again!"

Draco scoffed "This couldn't be less of a 'perfectly tranquil moment.'"

"Fine then! Then I say it's a perfectly tranquil moment now, so keep your fat mouth shut!"

"I will if you will!"

"Fine."

"Fine."

"_Fine."_

In this silence, Draco considered why she was so uppity when he asked her that question. Reviewing their conversation inside his head, he paid attention to the fact that she was defensive of being part of the female population of the school- because Malfoy was basically asking her if she found him attractive. Quizzical, Malfoy tried to figure out if all those rude instigating statements she said- were they real or just defensive.

Glancing at the angry girl beside him, she huffed up in indignation and wrinkled her nose at him when he smirked at her.

But inside his own head, he was going nuts. He didn't want Muddy to have a crush on him; that would mess everything up. If she had a crush on him then they weren't proper enemies. And he _needed_ to know what made them enemies. If Muddy fell for him then nothing would work out.

Running through possibilities, Malfoy was about to open his mouth and spout something insulting-just to reassure them both that they were enemies-when he realized that if he did that then he wouldn't be able to even talk to her. Besides, it's not these stupid comments he made that made her hate him so much, right?

_Inside Hermione's head:_

I hate that git.

-

Professor McGonagoll was not used to having to run around the school, it was not her job to hunt down students.

Trying not to lose her composure, she rushed down the hallways and knocked on the portrait to the Head's common room for the umpteenth time.

The angry monkey was even angrier at seeing her again. "I _told_ you," he said in an oddly high pitched voice, "they _aren't_ here!"

Grumbling in frustration, McGonagoll rushed past a window and was about to check the library-again- when she glanced outside the window and- "Well. It's about _time_."


	17. Drama Galore!

Yay! A really fucked up dramatic chapter!

And a reviewer!

Thanks so much to citrine, who, although breif in her support, made my morning! (oh. wait. its like 2 in the afternoon.)

It doesn't take much to make me smile, guys, just review, even if you don't have anything to say!

* * *

Hermione was considering telling Malfoy that she had had enough and was going to head back when she spotted the odd sight of Professor McGonagoll, with a hand clamped over her hat in the wind, rushing up to meet them.

Upon doing so, Hermione's manners forced her to be polite, even though she was feeling anything but, what with the attitude Malfoy was giving her.

"Good afternoon Professor, is there something-"

"Come with me _immediately_, both of you."

Without another word, McGonagoll rushed back off to the castle.

Hermione glanced to Draco, who glanced back to her, but seeing that she was forgetting their previous spat, Hermione immediately _hmph_ed, stuck her nose in the air, and jogged to keep up with the Professor.

Malfoy just shook his head and followed without enthusiasm, wondering what in bloody hell was going on today.

-

Leading them into the hospital room, the professor rushed over to a bed with the curtains closed and immediately swished them to the side.

Upon being faced with what was in the bed, Hermione let out a slight squeal and turned herself away, pushing her face absentmindedly into Malfoy's chest.

Realizing that she should be stronger and should _not_ be treating Malfoy as such, Hermione glared at Draco, who only raised an eyebrow in return before placing his hands on her shoulders and turned her around so that she could face the bed.

McGonagoll herself was not looking, but instead pushed a stern glare unto the two Heads. "If _either of you_ had anything to do with this then I will personally see to it that neither of you _ever_-"

"_Professor,_ how can you even suggest-?"

McGonagoll cut her off with a raised voice, closing her eyes in frustration, a hand to her forehead. "She was found just inside the Head's common room, and…" The professor's voice reached a high tone, exasperated, "the only thing she seems to say is what is obviously a- a… repetition of the last words spoken before she… lost consciousness. She keeps saying-"

But just as McGonagoll was about to explain, Ginny sat straight up in her bed, grasping the rails of the bed with sweaty hands, eyes wide open and blank. "I'm sorry Hermione! Please, no…!" As soon as the last word was uttered, Ginny's eyes closed and she collapsed back into her bed.

Hermione fell onto the bed across from Ginny, eyes wide open and watering easily, pulled her legs onto the bed and hugged her knees, staring at her best friend with shock and fear.

McGonagoll glanced at her, only a shred of pity in her eyes, and tried to assess how genuine Hermione's reaction was.

She glanced to the Head Boy, who was staring at Ginny with an emotion she could not place, somewhere between suspicion and disgust… distrust?

Ginny, for her part, seemed to be sleeping, restlessly, and was prone to trying to turn on to her side- but she was restrained from doing so by the fact that every time she would try- her face would scrunch up as the wounds on her chest would start, bleeding into the heavy bandages even more.

McGonagoll pulled Ginny's wand from the bedside table and held it out to the two Heads. Carefully watching them for their reaction, Minerva muttered a spell, "Prior Incantato!"

Rising from the wand was a figure of smoke, a hand that grasped a wooden cross- that which would control a puppet.

Draco's eyes darkened at the sight and Hermione looked aghast.

Glancing between the two once again, the Professor sighed. "Do either of you _know what this means?_"

Draco, who was heading closer to Ginny, squinted at her expression of sleep. "_Imperius…_" He muttered, staring closely at Ginny's form.

"Malfoy, get away from there…" Hermione pleaded softly, her whine arousing him from his stupor and pulling him away from his interest in the youngest Weasley.

McGonagoll also pulled another wand from the bedside table. "Hey, that's…. mine…" Hermione's voice dwindled under the stare that McGonagoll gave her.

"This was found in your room, Miss Granger. Would you like to confess to the last spell or should I show it to you?"

Hermione looked confused- the last spell she had used was a heating spell on her socks after her escapade in the lake with Malfoy. That was in _no_ way related to… Hermione gulped and looked at Ginny. _This_.

When the professor muttered _prior incantato_ once more, Hermione was shocked to see what rose from the tip of her wand.

Forming itself out of the smoke was a sword, thin and intricately designed, which- before any of them could even get a long look at it- started slashing back and forth at the air in front of it.

With a faint heart, McGonagoll whispered _deletrius_ and the smoked sword was gone, the smoke vacuumed into Hermione's wand.

Startling them all out of their silent, shocked reverie was a bang of the hospital wing's doors slamming open.

Madame Pomfrey jostled out of her office, ready to reprimand those who created the commotion- when she noticed that a furious looking Snape, accompanied by an apprehensive looking Dumbledore, was quickly making his way over to the bed where the three stood over the bed.

Professor McGonagoll took charge of the situation, pushing her glasses up her nose. "Professors, I have just demonstrated what the last spells seemed to have been and I don't believe that we can-"

"Allow Mr. Malfoy to be a part of such a manner." Snape muttered between clenched teeth, finishing what he believed should be her statement. "If the young Head Boy would please step out, these matters do not concern him."

Draco stood up straighter and responded in a snarl. "I was with her the entire day- she hasn't even had her wand on her-"

"_It is not your business to defend her!_ I would think that _you_ of all people would hope that no one ever again, no matter _how_ goody-two-shoes, gets away with such a curse as _sectumsempra-_!"

"Severus, _please._" Dumbledore brought himself next to Snape, "They know more than we do, let them speak."

Snape's nose twitched, but he waited for the two teenagers to speak.

Hermione suddenly assessed something- "Hey- my wand was just sitting on the table! Anyone could have-" But Hermione stopped, she knew what was wrong with her defense, as did Draco, who sighed sadly and only glanced to Ginny again.

"We have discovered, Miss Granger," McGonagoll said in a softer voice than she had used all day, "that you cannot defend yourself as such. As unfortunate as it may be… it seems that you had a lock on your wand… only you could have used it."

The conversation was paused as Madame Pomfrey made her way up to them. "If only you could take this talk outside-"

"Impossible, Poppy, and I do apologize- but it must be continued in here-"

"Then I could get to my patient and this entire mess could be solved."

With that, everyone moved out of the way as the nurse made her way to Ginny's bedside.

Everyone watched closely as, with the assistance of Minerva, she held up the head of the youngest Weasley and poured a steaming orange potion down her throat.

Malfoy muttered something callous as he watched and, without turning to him, Madame Pomfrey answered. "This potion was only created _after_ your unfortunate… accident."

With that Madame Pomfrey stepped back, and Professor McGonagoll followed suit.

Draco glanced to Hermione, who only gave him a short, worried look before watching her best friend- if she was still- very closely, for any signs of consciousness.

Just when Snape was about to restate his argument, Ginny suddenly sat up straight in her bed, and unlike before, started coughing as Madame Pomfrey held her shoulders, trying to empty a swirling purple potion into her mouth.

Once this was fully downed, Ginny fell back onto the bed, eyes wound shut.

"Miss Weasley," Dumbledore started, looking at her with sad eyes, "I am afraid that in your current condition we are not all trusting of what you may have to tell us." Dumbledore sent a glance to Snape, who sneered in response as he rummaged through his robes, before continuing. "So it is imperative that we issue you with a truth potion."

Ginny nodded weakly, eyes still closed. Snape pulled a small flask from his robe and, moving past a depressed McGonagoll, proceeded to push it into the young girl's mouth- before Madame Pomfrey, in disgust, took it from him and eased it into Ginny's mouth.

After momentary silence, Ginny seemed to settle, though her eyes did not open.

Snape and Dumbledore pushed forward, taking stances across the bed.

"Miss Weasley," Dumbledore started, "are you conscious?"

"Yes." Ginny's voice was clear and strong, much different than before.

"Good," Dumbledore continued, "Good. And- and do you know who I am?"

Ginny smiled slightly. "Headmaster Dumbledore."

Dumbledore smiled slightly as well. "Do you know what time of the day it is?"

Ginny's forehead creased slightly. "A little after lunch."

Dumbledore glanced to Snape. Snape, out of his own curiosity, "Miss Weasley- where were you last?"

Under the influence of the potion, Ginny did not hesitate. "I was heading into the Heads common room. I wanted to see Zeus before tonight- and I was hoping I wouldn't run into Hermione."

With the last statement, everyone in the room stiffened, and Draco sent Hermione an unusually frustrated and disbelieving look.

Snape, however, continued. "And who did you happen to meet inside the common room?"

Ginny shook her head, her voice and face blank. "I don't remember that."

"Who opened the portrait for you?"

"I don't remember."

"_Miss Weasley!_" Minerva placed her hand on Severus' arm to calm him down, "Miss Weasley- who did you perform the Imperius curse on- an _illegal curse_ worthy of _Azkaban!_"

Ginny's eyes opened slowly and her blank blue eyes stared directly into Severus. "I have never used the Imperius."

"Miss Weasley," Dumbledore said softly, aware that Severus' patience was wearing thin, "we found you inside the common room. Do you remember how you got inside?"

Ginny shook her head again. "No."

Finally asking the simplest question, Snape asked Ginny one more question before the potion wore thin. "What is the last thing you remember?"

"I was at that ludicrous picture of the monkey- and Hermione called my name from beside me. And… and I was so happy to see her."

With that final remark, Ginny collapsed into the bed as the potion wore off.

Silent, Madame Pomfrey waved her wand over Ginny's form and the girl relaxed into a needed slumber.

The four Professors, all at once, looked behind them, to where Hermione was.

Hermione's face was streaked with tears, her eyes wide open in shock, as she replayed her best friend's recollection-that by all means Hermione used _sectumsempra_, a curse she only learned about from Harry, never practiced, never considered- on her best friend.

Draco, not able to look at either Hermione or the Professors, tried to take control of the situation. "What about Zeus?"

None of the Professors paid attention to the fact that he ignored everything Ginny said, understanding that his hunch was more than severe paranoia.

Professor McGonagoll, breathing deeply with her eyes closed after such an episode, answered him with her best steady voice. "It seems… it seems that Mr. Orcanil cannot be located."

"Well that's convenient." Draco spoke quickly, trying to finish the entire mess.

"Mister Malfoy," Dumbledore spoke for the first time in minutes, "you should take _advantage_ of the fact that there is no evidence. I am asking you to accompany Miss Granger to your common room- and you are to keep an eye on her from now on, hmmm?"

"Because it is certainly safe for me to sleep in a bed so vulnerable to an attack from a _dorm_mate."

The Professors glanced at one another, before Poppy breathed deep. "This is an area not fit for such a discussion. I'm going to ask that you all leave."

No one moved, not even Dumbledore.

"I think Albus is right," Minerva continued, "I think it would be best for the Heads to return to their common room and… and for this to continue under different circumstances. Miss Granger, I'm afraid we must keep your wand. You see… we just can't let you have control of it, just yet…"

As McGonagoll finished her statement awkwardly, all eyes turned to Malfoy as a guttural snarl rose from his throat as he glared at her. "You're a fool." He glanced between Dumbledore and Snape. "You're all fools."

He glanced down to Ginny. "Her story doesn't match up. Not even under Veritaserum. She says she didn't want to see Hermione but she was- what was it that made tears sprite to your eyes, 'so _happy_ to see her'? This is bullshit." Hermione placed a hand awkwardly on his arm but it was unnoticed. "If you use reasoning then you might just want to pay more attention to the fact that whoever attacked her was put under Imperius, that she wasn't even in her right mind when she committed this. Or is that something you'd rather ignore?"

Hermione looked away, as did any professor but Snape, who sent him a reprimanding look, glancing to the girl standing closely to him. Malfoy brought himself to sneer at his tutor and, despite Hermione's impulse of anticipation, Malfoy spat on the face of young Ginny Weasley.

"_Mister Malfoy!"_

But none could speak as he placed his arm around the shoulders of the petrified, crying girl next to him and placed a kiss to the top of her bare, naked head.

He ushered her out of the room without a single look back.

"Albus…"

"Minerva, I am afraid there is nothing that can be done at the moment. I would like the both of you to alert the school to be on the watch for Mr. Orcanil- but do not tell them, in any circumstance, what has transgressed. They will create their own gossip. Now," Dumbledore smoothed his robe and placed his hat on his weathered head, "although I do not wish to concern him in the matter, I must see a Mister Potter about a certain mischievous map, yes?"

And as Albus left, Severus and Minerva shared a quick glance before turning away from each other and heading out to their respective houses, neither understanding what had transgressed-especially not the actions of their two favorite pupils.


	18. Chapter 18

I feel like I haven't updated in a while, but maybe I'm lying.

Once again I want to thank Satannpink for reviewing. :)

I've uploaded four fifths of my story, so I've got to start writing more, meaning I'll be updating less.

Still, at least once a week, ja?

* * *

As soon as they left the hospital wing, Malfoy's arm returned to his side. 

Neither spoke as they headed towards the Head's room.

It was late now, it was nearly time for dinner, but neither was in the mood to approach the rest of the school just yet, nor did they think either would be able to eat.

As they turned down a particularly dark hallway, Hermione spoke for the first time since trying to defend herself- "Malfoy…"she cleared her throat, "Malfoy could you please-"

But before she was given a chance to destroy her pride, Malfoy took out his wand- "_Lumos_," and she said nothing as his arm reached over her shoulders again. They traveled down the hallway together, both alert for any whispers of shadows.

"Hermione?"

Hermione froze, but whether it was for the fact that she recognized the voice or not- Draco couldn't tell.

Still keeping his arm firmly around her shoulders- no way was he about to let something happen while he had control- Harry walked towards them from the shadows.

Seeing the arm around her shoulders, Harry did not speak for a moment, and Hermione, incredibly awkward in this situation- said nothing.

Draco's arm tightened and his face twisted into a familiar snarl- when Harry spoke, still glancing between the two.

"Hermione… About Ginny… Hermione did you…?"

_Fool. They wouldn't have let her walk away._

Hermione's eyes shot up, full of doubt, fear, and-pride? - and she spoke in an even voice. "Harry… should you believe such a ridiculous idea… did you ever know me? I…"

Hermione shook her head and stared him down, more adamant than ever, trying to put ferocity into the tears in her eyes. "If you believe such a rumor then go ahead. If you're that weak then just forget it, forget it Harry!"

"Hermione stop-!" Harry stepped closer to her. "Hermione I don't… I didn't think you had…" As Hermione gave him a moment of silent consideration, he looked beside him and ran a shaky hand through his hair. "I just wanted to know what was going on- and I guess I asked pretty tactlessly, huh?" When Hermione did not respond, Harry continued in a heavy tone. "I miss you Hermione. I know I'm too proud to ever tell you that, or that I love you… and I know you get the brunt of everything, that your best friends refuse to treat you right… And I'm sorry… I'm sorry about the last time, I know I fucked up. Plain and simple, I just… miss you. And I'm tired of all this drama and I hope you are too."

Creasing his eyebrows and biting his lip, Harry gave her one long stare. "If you ever need me-"

Hermione's response did not consist of words, and in the corniest way possible, she knew they would not be enough. In a bout of relief, Hermione gave into an urge of weakness, throwing herself into Harry's immediately welcoming arms.

Draco watched in cold-hearted amusement as Ron walked upon the scene. Hermione lifted her head from Harry's arms.

Ron glanced between Harry and Hermione- Draco seemed to disappear.

Hermione lifted herself off Harry ever so slightly and sent a soft expression to Ron, who-without a word- captured her in his arms. As Harry joined the embrace, he delivered a kiss to the top of Hermione's head, where Malfoy had displaced his affection only a minute ago.

"Mister Potter, Mister Weasley, and Miss Granger- I do believe this is enough affection to last you the next week, hmm?"

The cold snarl drew the Gryffindors' attention, and the two boys let go of Hermione, though neither did so completely. Ron still curled his fingers around her wrist- Harry placed his hand on the small of her back.

The actions of the Golden Trio curled the two Slytherins' lips into expressions that could never mask such disgust.

Harry was the first to respond to Snape's snarl. He turned to Hermione and gently took both of her wrists, speaking urgently and quietly as Ron sent a smirk to Draco- before he, too, engaged himself in the conversation and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, concealing their actions.

"Hermione, listen to me closely- I don't know what's going on between you and Malfoy- but you cannot trust him, you hear me? You cannot believe anyone but yourself, not even the professors." Harry reached under his robes and, making sure to hide it from Snape and Malfoy, pulled a pendant from his neck.

The chain fell heavy on her, but immediately afterwards the weight disappeared, and Hermione reached up to it but Harry moved her hands away, tucking the pendant into her shirt. Looking deeper into her eyes, Harry spoke even softer.

"Ginny gave this to me, before… and I think you need it more than I do. Just touch your wand to it and chant _templum_… you will be transported to me, okay?"

Hermione nodded, though she was unsure of what she was agreeing too. Harry accepted the fact that she didn't understand with a contorted expression. Bringing his lips to her forehead, his final affection caused Hermione to relax; as if this one action sealed her trust; she would not doubt his apprehensions, now hers.

He slipped the map into her robe.

And as Ron held her gently, briefly, as the two boys walked towards Snape for a reason she could not place, it did not break the flow of the moment as Harry turned back to her momentarily.

"When you have a question, you know where to find the answer."

Harry turned, and the three walked away, leaving Draco to confront Hermione.

Hermione did not look at him- Harry's words were ringing in her head.

They did not continue their pace, now at an impass.

Draco's glare intensified with the lack of Hermione's, and he scoffed at the denial of his presence. "So now you've got trust in the one person that satisfies your paranoia and says _not_ to trust anyone?"

Hermione's eyes shot up and he was surprised that she honestly believed he hadn't heard. "Potter's tactless. You just fell for all their bullshit- Weasel didn't even _apologize_ to you! After all the shit you've been telling me about them you're just going to _accept_ them?!"

Hermione's eyes burned into Draco's with ferocity, prepared to defend herself against the one person who knew to accuse her. "And have you ever heard of forgiving?"

"And what of it? Certainly what you just did does not constitute forgiveness! There was no reason to it, Granger, and you know it was completely weak of you to submit to heart's desire!"

Only slightly taken aback, Hermione's expression lost some of its intensity. "If I am thinking with my heart then _nothing_ is weak!"

"You fool! Do you not realize what emotions will drag you down through? Why should it be that with Potter, with Weasel, with all the shit they pulled- you think with your heart? Why should it be that everything you actually _want_- you fall ignorantly into- with no logic! Why should it be that with me, your _sworn_ enemy, you must think with your head and not your heart? Why must you ignore reason for them, they do not _deserve_ it!"

The atmosphere was stale, and both counterparts hoped for a breeze, something to sway what had been said, what will be asked. Something to contradict the corollary.

"And do _you_?"

Draco's eyes closed at her question, knowing his answer would speak to her. "How would you know? You do not want me, and that is the only thing that would make me worthy of your… _forgiveness_."

Turning from her, Draco headed to his destination alone, not daring to look upon what he might have created.

It was a fitting ending, bitter and angsty.

But she refused to reform to flow, to what _should_ be. She was sick of what she thought she should do, and falling into place would mean letting go of what could be.

Those three little words are overrated, but as Hermione spoke them she was assaulted with how powerful they were, how significant they were.

And it was all because they did not fit with what should happen, what happened every other time they went through this.

"Do not leave."

Draco's steps actually faltered, and she appreciated the fact that her statement was, indeed, blunt and unexpected.

"If you do then it will be like every other soliloquy you have offered me. Stop pretending I will not respond, stop pretending that you are more than me…. If you just leave, like every other time, in a few days I will go mad and when we are forced to confront each other this same kind of conflict will ensue."

Draco stood with his back to her, and in the distance he had already crossed there were shadows blocking them from one another. "What do you want?"

Trying not to absorb the full impact of his words, Hermione tried to assess the answer.

"I do not want to do this again. I do not want to conflict our intelligence and toss our dispositions carelessly on opposite sides of the fence. I want to just speak without trying to put impact behind our words. I want… I want to know that you feel the same as I do, that you understand how careless it is to think alone. If you do not feel this way… if you wish to remain stoic… then I apologize and hope you can forgive me, even though _it won't matter_."

Draco's silence was tense, and as he contemplated his response, his eyes rose to the ceiling. "And what if it did matter? What of it then?"

"What of… what of my _forgiveness?_...I suppose the answer is to you, because should I forgive you then it would matter to me. Should it matter to you… or if it does not… that is for you to know and for me to find out."

Draco turned to her. And in the most clichéd way possible, the stale hallway seemed lighter. His hair seemed to glow when complimenting his face, and his eyes seemed to actually be pleased with what they were studying.

And all this was because he was smiling at her. "I like your attitude, Muddy. I hope that after all the shit we're going to put each other through; you will not falter in your decision."

Hermione did not have a response. "My decision…?"

"Being that you have chosen to allow me a bit of your compassion, that."

And as his meaning fell into her, Hermione felt a smile threaten to take over her confusion.

And with the comfort that she was to bestow her emotions unto this new companion, she did not hold back as her animosity gave a short surrender.

She rather thought it would be a welcome defeat.

-

She rolled over, pulling the stiff white blanket over her head.

She shut her eyes tighter, tighter, until she was sure they wouldn't open again.

Her memory did not suit her.

_He reached out his hand and, with her smile too unreasonable to be explained, she took it upon impulse._

_She looked into his eyes and they seemed so warm… but his hand was cold. _

_She became aware of this fact when she looked down at her hand and saw her skin, a morbid shade of blue._

_Hermione was shocked, but she was not the one to react._

_Malfoy's hand reverted to his side and he did not look at her._

_She looked up to him, breathless, but he was already walking before them, heading to the doors of the Great Hall._

_He opened the door and stood, as a gentleman, waiting for her to pass through, all the while holding out his hand to her._

_Glancing to her hand, Hermione cried out- it was passing through her wrist, her arm, with almost a gaseous quality, blackened color swirling towards her elbow-_

_She was on her knees and he was shaking her, but she couldn't help but notice, through her delirium, that he did not touch her._

_She was almost surprised that her hand's strike against his cheek did not leave a black handprint._

"_I am _not_ dirty," she hissed, "and you can't make me think I am, you cannot destroy me."_

_But he didn't hear her, or else his rising anger would be replaced with confusion._

_No, he was shouting, shaking, grabbing her wrists and demanding she keep her eyes open._

It took her a moment to realize her eyes _were_ open, despite her attempts.

Usually the boy next to her would be Harry or Ron, but neither had shown up at the Hospital Wing that night.

No, he was blonde. It was Malfoy.

And as she watched him adjust into his chair, she was sure he was awake, but not voluntarily so.

_Well he can keep _his_ eyes closed just fine._

Hermione relaxed the crease in her forehead, knowing anger would not help her keep still enough to keep her consciousness unknown.

When he sighed, Hermione closed her eyes, fast, and she heard the door open, followed by quick and direct footsteps.

She could've sworn she heard the swish of a Malfoy cape, but suddenly she heard Harry's voice.

"What did you do to her? You were with her all day so don't think about lying, Malfoy. You were too buddy buddy… I'll have you ready to tell the truth as soon as Dumbledore arrives."

"Fuck off Potter, she would never fuck _you_."

There was a smack of glass on the ground and suddenly Hermione could hear herself crying, sobbing, _crying_ to them.

"It won't be hard, either. Rape isn't out of the question but- don't you suppose it would be more detrimental to her precious dignity for her to make the decision herself? Should be a tight piece of-"

"Miss _Granger_ you must keep your eyes open!"

_They are, they are._


	19. Chapter 19

Draco never bit his fingernails. He was never distressed. He did not lose sleep.

Draco Malfoy did not concern himself with anything other than himself, and he would never make a mistake that would cause him to define a situation as a dilemma.

But he was sitting stiffly in a chair Miss Pomfrey pulled out for him, with disdain, when he was informed that Muddy would not be conscious.

She probably had some far fetched idea that he was staying there for the girl, and it disgusted him.

Trying to memorize his eyelids, he knew he could not say he was staying because he knew that Dumbledore would show up only at the strike of midnight to attend to the prude of the Golden Trio, and he would not be woken to describe his moments with Granger.

He would not have it, nor would he have her telling the headmaster that he had done something to her.

Her eyes… they weren't brown anymore. Not then, not like they should've been.

_Her hands flew to her head and she fell to her knees, trying to push her head into the tile._

_She was standing right in front of him, she was quite close. Nothing could have passed to her, they were in the Entrance Hall, he had his back to the door but he was shielding her from attacks, wasn't he?_

_He grabbed her wrists and she held out her arm to him, she howled, and she wrapped her hand around her wrist, she stared at it, she tried to dig her nails into her wrist but he slapped her and she fell backwards._

_Wasn't he?_

_Her head cracked on the tile, he guessed._

So Malfoy was here to make sure everyone understood that she was already delirious.

He didn't do anything.

He leaned his head back against the chair. He should probably go back.

He looked to her form under the thin hospital blanket.

Her hand was on her wrist again, and she was passing her thumb against her veins, where small crescents had been neglected by Pomfrey.

His eyes narrowed and he watched as she traced the marking.

She bit her lip and he lost it.

"I can't believe I'm falling for this."

In surprise, Hermione's eyes flew open but…

_Her head was on the tile and she finally looked back at him, smiled, and winked a green eye._

She looked up at him with these same eyes.

"Enough bullshit."

He pressed his hand to her forehead and whispered the key to his entrance.

Placing a wand to his temple- "_pervasus capitis!"_

-

Harry did try to run through.

He tried to get to Hermione, to get to the man invading her head, to do something.

But no one heard him, and he watched the man's form disintegrate as an unexpected howl rose from his throat.

Harry was too late.

-

This isn't right.

_He didn't get many conscious thoughts, but he knew that was the only one that mattered._

_Thoughts should be flying through him._

_He should be bombarded by anything she felt to think._

_He was supposed to be able to see anything that ran through her head, and she could not be conscious enough to fight back._

_He tried to keep himself together._

_He could feel something, he could feel something else that was dragging in her thoughts._

_Sucking them in and ripping them right, manipulating her own memory._

_He couldn't keep himself straight._

_If he wasn't careful, he could forget who he was._

It was dark magic to invade her head.

But it was obviously dark magic that had taken her hostage.

_He was forgetting, again, who he was._

_He was forgetting that he _was_ human, that he was in here for a purpose._

_He could feel something, someone, trying to pull him out._

Already?

How long have I been here?

No, I found it. Let me stay.

_He dug deeper, pulling himself from whatever made him want safety._

_Because he could feel it._

_He couldn't see it, he couldn't even imagine it._

The grip pulling him ceased.

_But he could sense it._

_And he knew the name._

_It was Voldemort._

-

Maybe Malfoy was less conscious than he thought, and maybe he was even more unaware of how he really felt.

He could not control it, really.

But when he registered the name of the Dark Lord, it triggered an emotion, a desire, so powerful, it took place in the one place it could.

Inside Hermione's brain, anything was possible.

Literally speaking.

Two men invaded her brain, and both knew only one would come out.

It was not really Him, was it?

It must have been just a phantom of Him, but all the same…

Malfoy's sheer anger at finding the presence forced him to do something that would keep Hermione comatose for a week.

He_ fought _Him.

Malfoy's strength as a Legilimens came into question and he forced himself into a fight with the Dark Lord.

He won, of course, Malfoy did.

-

Harry ran to her side, he wanted to save her, he needed to.

Everything came down to this moment, he knew.

This was his chance to play the hero and save Hermione, but he was unprepared.

Trying not to get emotional, Harry placed his hand on Hermione temple just as the other man done, but instead of entering, for he had not heard the words, Harry tried to draw out the invader, he could feel him within his grip. But when Hermione whimpered he lost his focus and lost his grip upon the man.

Instead he watched as his hand drew up to Hermione's throat, and he _squeezed_, he felt his hand tighten and a grin come to his face, pulling at her air as Hermione began to convulse, and he pushed her other shoulder down, he clambered on top of her, pushing her into the bed as she began to cry, not even aware-

When suddenly she sat up and looked at Harry, who lost his grip, who began to falll back onto the bed as he watched her grey eyes widen in shock, her hands gripping the rails of her bed, her grey eyes watched as he fell back onto the bed, losing consciousness, watched as the green that was _not_ his turn into the familiar green of her best friend-

And as she tried to gain control of the scream rising from her throat, her hand reached up where Harry had gripped her, reached for the necklace he had given her when he _was_ her best friend, and in a man's hoarse voice she was just barely able to whisper out _templum-!_ before her back arched up, staring at the ceiling, holding her throat, her head, tried not cry as she realized where she was, what she had done to get here-

The last thing Hermione remembered…

_She had been walking in the dungeons, with Zeus, the Head Boy. They had been chatting animatedly until they saw a shadow at the end of the hall._

_Zeus pushed her behind him but she watched, from the floor, as he willingly let the shadow enter him, arching up and sputtering as this new being became him-_

_And then he turned to face Hermione, green eyes glinting, and he raised his wand to kill her, she knew, but when he cried out her sentence the shadow flowed from his wand tip too slowly, she watched as the being left him, left a crumpled boy on the floor._

_Before the shadow could reach her, fluttering in the air without direction, Hermione had turned her wand to this now innocent boy and cried _Avada Kedavra-

What else could she have done?

-

Ginny's eyes opened, slowly, blinking the blur from her vision, she saw Zeus seated before her, in a state she had never witnessed.

Although he was seated beside her, _obviously concerned_, thought Ginny with a smile; Zeus kept twisting his torso to look behind him, anxiously glancing around the Hospital Wing.

When he returned his eyes to hers, however briefly, he did a double take as he saw that she was smiling up at him, despite his aberrant behavior.

"M'lady…" And although Zeus delivered a kiss to her hand, Ginny could see that his eyes were not relieved, they seemed, in fact, more worried than before, at which Ginny's eyes own concerned, drawing her eyebrows together and tugging away the smile on her lips.

Weakly, Ginny raised her hand to Zeus cheek, although Zeus seemed to wince, instead reaching to take her hand, hold it, before she could make contact with his face, smiling apologetically.

She tried to sit up but he would not release her hand.

"What's wrong?"

Zeus' eyebrows shot up, an actor of innocence.

"Nothing's wrong!" His voice was high pitched and, Ginny noticed, he had dropped the accent.

Suspiciously recognizing that he would not address something so obvious, she tried to make her own inquiries of innocence.

"Why are you here?"

It would have been easy for Zeus to have replied something sweet, about concern for her, her health, enough to drag him to the Hospital Wing in the middle of the night.

Ginny glanced to the windows, it was raining outside. She had a feeling, a very treacherous feeling, that his paranoia did not have any relation to getting caught by Madam Pomfrey.

Instead, he seemed to be refraining from glancing to a corner of the room where Ginny knew no one lay.

Still playing along, Ginny asked what time it was.

"Quarter till midnight."

He wasn't looking at her, he was looking across the room. Ginny couldn't see, she couldn't know what he was looking at, because his body was blocking her view. The grip he held on her arm tightened when she tried to twist to look past him.

Although her face began to grow red in anger, Ginny kept her voice steady. "I'm sorry I missed our _date_." She could barely keep the hissing venom from her words.

But somehow Zeus must have heard this anyways, for he turned to her, already sneering in disgust, already delivering hatred through his eyes.

"Oh Ginny," and now that she had heard his true voice, his cold drawling voice, it was only frightening that he returned to the accent that she had once thought of so fondly- "you'll never know how much you've missed. But you've been a big part!" Zeus grinned, "the main role, the key damsel in distress, that made tonight possible! You deserve honor, for all you've been through. Oh," Zeus feigned sympathy, pouting, placed his cold hand upon her cheek and Ginny found herself writhing, twisting to get out of his grip, she wanted to cry, to scream, anything. "you deserve it."

And with this Zeus leaned closer and closer, grinning wider and wider, for he heard Hermione scream and he knew his master had won, he knew it, and now he was free to do anything, including shutting this bitch up once and for all, now that she knew.

And he crushed her scream- she finally started to scream, and he muffled her as his hand dragged past her legs, grabbed her thigh, shoved her breasts into her chest, finally brought his hand to reach her throat, finally started squeezing as Ginny tried to fight, tried to help herself, save herself, just to stop crying, tried to bite his lips, his tongue but that only made him moan and squeeze harder-

Another scream and Zeus was knocked off of her, the corner of a book hitting him square on the head.

As he fell next to the bed, leaning up against the hospital nightstand, Hermione, in a flailing hospital gown and face red with fury, almost cried when she saw the beast she had knocked off Ginny.

And at the same time both seventh years, if Zeus truly was, shouted in unison "_You're supposed to be dead!"_

And Hermione wailed, landed on Zeus and began to beat him with anything she could grab, a glass that had held a potion he was to give Ginny, trying to cut open his face with the shards when the glass finally broke, the lamp on the nightstand, watching with satisfaction as the lightbulb shattered-

For she was delirious, she was rabid, even, and Ginny tried to get over her shock, tried to pull her off before she killed him. Even if Ginny wanted him killed herself, he knew what was going on and if he was dead no one would believe her. And so she tried to pull off Hermione, finally deciding that she was sorry she had fucked up so bad, finally deciding she couldn't be mad at her when she saved her, she had been trying to save her since the very beginning-

And so when Snape shouted _stupefy_ at the boy, Hermione cried and fell into Ginny's arms, Ginny held her, hugged her, unsure of what had happened but knew that she had Hermione back and things would _have_ to go back to normal.

They _had_ to.

-

The last person Molly Weasley had ever expected to show up on her musty doormat most assuredly _had _shown up, soaking up the rain that permeated his clothing, his hair, and seemingly his expression, as he began to feel hopeless, watching as the portly woman screamed at the sight of his wretched face.

He banged on her window, he cried that he had to see Dumbledore, they had to take him, they had to, she cried to her husband, what else could they do?

-

Dumbledore sipped slowly from the glass of water on his desk.

In front of him was Professor Snape, looking, for all of his cold composure, like the world would fall apart if Dumbledore did not follow him to the Hospital Wing, where lay an unconscious Potter, distressed Miss Weasley and Head Girl, and an unconscious- previously missing person, guarded carefully by several spells, awaited his authority.

And as it seemed that Severus would begin again, Dumbledore silenced him, choosing for the first time to speak.

"I know, Severus. But there is no need to worry. For what you do not know is that tonight Voldemort's presence within Mister Orcanil, Miss Granger, and briefly within Mister Potter and Miss Weasley-has been vanquished. And Mister Orcanil, who of course wished his master victory by giving up his life for him, has certainly died. It is too late to inquire the true behaviors of these students, which were their own and which… not. I will be there in a moment, return there and do not let them leave. I will address this subject only minutely, but I must ask Miss Granger about her recollection of these past hours. I will be with you shortly, Severus, and so will Mister Malfoy, who I believe has just entered the grounds."

Severus left the Headmaster, speechless, and Dumbledore folded up the map, confiscated from the Head Girl when she was brought to the hospital room by Mister Malfoy, and he was sure- absolutely sure, that the Head Boy had not harmed her. Dumbledore felt, instead, that there was most certainly something more to this man than was obvious.

It was his job, then, as Dumbledore withdrew himself from his room with a desperate sigh, to give him the bittersweet news of the evening.

For even though evil had been vanquished…


	20. Chapter 20

…_rare cases of pervasus Capitis are in success, however, and for those who dare its attempt…_

Dumbledore was talking, but Draco knew what he was going to say to them.

…_failure is most often accompanied by death…_

"…Mister Potter, I do not understand what notion allowed you to think that giving a fellow student an _unauthorized_ Portkey to Mister Weasley's residence was a prudent idea…"

…_if the invader loses his sense, his grip on reality and himself, his identity and purpose, then it is possible to disintegrate within the victims subconscious, often causing illness to the victim, or leaving certain memories, having belonged to the invader, inhibited within the mind…_

"…I am deathly apologetic that I allowed this circumstance to occur; it was my vulnerable trust that was permissible access for Voldemort to infiltrate..."

…_often if the invader tries to remove himself, the victim is killed, leaving the invader with a similar outcome…_

"…I am unsure of how to accept this great news, though I know we owe Mister Malfoy our greatest thanks, for daring to destroy this power, even if it put his fellow student at danger, although she was already, as was the rest of the school, and ultimately, the world…"

…_if the invader reaches a state of panic or excitement, he could kill himself or his victim, and in even less likely circumstances…_

"…but the dark magic our Head Boy-" Hermione stiffened, flinched, "-used to save his Head Girl had one side effect. For although his intent was purely benevolent, his abrupt leave from her subconscious had led to…"

…_the invader can accidentally erase memories held dear by the host. Although, surely, if malicious intent was the purpose, this could be advantageous…_

"…accidental selective memory wiping of Miss Granger, who, upon inspection, seems only to have lost sentimental notions of recent days. It is impossible to determine, through observation, what the loss is…"

_She doesn't remember me. I was there, she was thinking about me, and when Potter strangled her I took the memories with me. It's his entire fault…_

"…and although I'm sure both men will attempt to wait for Miss Granger, I must plead for her sake that you, Mister Potter, head to bed and let her counterpart escort her to her room and a full night's rest…"

-

Although it had been Draco that had suffered the shock, Potter was openly shocked that his enemy, the man he saw invade her head, had accomplished something that only Harry was famous for.

Closing his mouth as Draco sneered, pointing to the direction of the Gryffindor commons; Harry held his hand out to Draco.

"Thank you. I am assured of where your true colors lie. I'm glad she helped you come to your senses."

Draco's arm fell, repelled by Harry's. "She didn't _help_ me. I've been aware of my principles for a long time, Potter. I would have never done so for _you_ so don't thank me. Please."

Harry's arm fell, surprised that he was surprised by Malfoy's behavior. But recognizing the pretense he was to play, he allowed a sneer to distinguish his feigned disgust. "If we're interviewed for this, your story better match up with mine."

"Attention whore."

But Harry walked away.

And only when Malfoy had breathed a sigh of relief at Potter's departure, that he would not have to be real with him, that he could pretend to be an enemy and make the night go along quickly-did Harry stop and speak without looking back to Malfoy.

In hardly a whisper, Harry advised Malfoy for the first time. "I don't know what she's lost, I don't know who you've been to her, but I know you're going to try and get her back. Even if she doesn't remember you. Maybe… but maybe this has happened for the best. I don't know what you meant to each other but this is your second chance. Realistically, you could never make her happy. It can't work out, not even as friends. You'll just make things harder for her if you try to mean something. Take advantage of her blank slate. She's better off hating you. You're better off having nothing to do with her. In the end, this all comes down to your compassion. Good night Malfoy."

And as Harry disappeared just as the object of both boys' affection walked briskly out of the hospital doors without looking at him, Malfoy felt the worst he'd had all night.

Chasing after her to catch up, Malfoy didn't touch her, resisted every urge to reach out and stop her, make her look at him after everything they went through tonight, everything she was supposed to remember.

"Hermione-"

"It's _Granger-"_

"_Stop, _Granger, stop-"

"There's nothing I can think to say to you."

Draco scoffed, scowled at the portraits snoozing as he rushed past, trying to keep up with her. "Well you _could_ tell me, oh I don't know, what he said to you."

"He said it to _me, _not _you_-"

"But it _obviously_ has to do with me, or just maybe the fact you've _forgotten_ about me."

"Well maybe I'm better off. And I certainly haven't forgotten all the shit you've pulled on me, Malfoy, I sure as _hell_ haven't forgotten."

Malfoy flinched, Potter's words fresh on his mind. "I thought he would explain this to you."

Hermione scoffed. "Well obviously he didn't."

Malfoy reached out a hand to touch her wrist. "It's complicated, Hermione, but I might be able to reverse the effects. You just have to tell me _what happened_, that's _all­_-"

"You know what Malfoy?" Hermione stopped, twirled to face him for the first time, and he realized there were tears brimming in her eyes. "I _don't know what to say to you_ because I _don't know_ why you're involved in my life at _all_! All Dumbledore told me was that since school started you've _meant something_ to me! He won't tell me who you are, he won't tell me what I've done, he won't even tell me whether or not to _care_ that apparently I've lost something! So _excuse me_ if I'm a little lost about what I'm supposed to do with you! I don't know what you're supposed to mean! For all I know we've been having an affair behind the school back, for all I know I've declared my love for you and given up all my hatred, my animosities, my _pride_ for my enemy. Is this what you want to hear?"

As Hermione began to lose herself, began to cry in front of her _worst enemy,_ Malfoy reached out to hold her wrist in his hard grip, tried to calm her. "And apparently I'm the only one that really knows. Why can't you just talk to me-!"

Hermione's palm snapped against his cheek, Malfoy's silence immense, and he watched as her hands retreated to cover her face, pitifully tried to conceal her flawed emotion, her anguish.

And if it were not for this display of vulnerability, Malfoy would have been too angry to hear her cried whisper-

"The only person that knows me is the only person I can't bring myself to trust."

With her statement out, Hermione revealed her red face to Malfoy, tried to hold back her tears miserably, tried not to see the hurt and astonishment on his face, tried to remember that this was the boy, not the man but the _boy_ who had tormented her for six years. She tried to be proud.

But she failed, blubbering.

And as Malfoy looked down upon her, tried to tell himself that it _didn't have to be this way_ he was aware of his hand reaching softly, slowly, gently, towards her cheek, tilting her chin up to him, trying to make her see him through her tears.

"You didn't trust me before. Of everything we've lost, I just wish you could remember when that changed."

And as Hermione's anguish began to climax, Malfoy could feel his own emotion overwhelm him.

For he could feel his desire pulling at him, could feel pain drawing at his eyes, he could feel it tug his mouth towards Hermione's, his eyes linked onto her own eyes, _they were_ _so plain and brown, I never looked, she has green, like drenched moss…_ onto the tears dragging down her cheeks, hopeless eyes watching his advance, not in hate, not in lust or love, but in knowledge of what he was about to do, fear of how she would let herself respond.

She was indifferent to him.

And as he let his lips press into hers, he could smell her tears, her fears, feel them on her cheeks, he could feel her tears falling from his own cringed eyelids; he could taste her tears on her lips as they shared this same experience, their first and only.

Her arms reached up and Malfoy nearly shivered when her hands slid up his neck, pulled at his wet hair, pulling her closer and adjusting her kiss, her head tilted, and Malfoy turned his head, refusing to let go, even as their tears intensified, and Hermione realized she had been crying, she needed to cry, she couldn't distract herself with lust, Malfoy knew, he knew he couldn't kiss away what she meant to him.

But as he could feel her supple lips start to lose composure against his, she fell into him; he reached for her, their need for support vindicated instantly.

And as she tried to quiet her sobs into his damp cloak, _it must be raining outside, he must have walked up the grounds in the rain,_ Hermione finally let herself cry as this man she could not remember encircled her, placed his head upon hers, and let her anguish over the fact that she may have lost a dozen significant moments like these, each uniquely heartbreaking and bittersweet and defining.

And it was as she tried to forget this, tried to forget he was supposed to mean something to her, to the rest of the wizarding world, that she stopped breathing, something brought to the front of her mind.

"You once told me that circumstances change people."

Her eyes flew up to his and he was startled at what he saw there, startled that she remembered, at a time like this, so soon.

Dark passion, stern confidence and… and under the glare, a tiny bit of understanding, shocked and sudden understanding.

"Change me."

And as Draco wished he could bend down to return the kiss she was offering, wished he could tighten his arms around her, lay his head upon hers, and not move until every tear had fallen, until every sweet and encouraging word Draco had never uttered had been whispered into her ear, it was then that Potter's words came to mind.

_She's better off not remembering me; hating me is a lot easier._

And as Draco walked away from her without a word, walked alone to where nothing but his solitude and whiskey awaited him, he tried not to her hear her anguished cry, tried not to visualize her falling to her knees, for he would never again be able to give her the closure that she was not alone.

_A lot easier._

* * *

_Whoa. An a/n at the end of the chapter._

_Craziness._

Sorry I haven't been the best updater lately, but i just recently said goodbye to my own manipulative Draco Malfoy, so the chapter I just wrote (what will soon be chapter _22- god thats soon!)_ is half sweet and aaaw- the other half is... yeah...

You'll see. -wink.-

So I better write more, right? Wouldn't want to be so behind I don't have a back up chapter in case my reviewers get stabby-

Hey, all you readers, go make love to my best friend for life.

She's my most devoted reviewer (because I told her to) but she's a fucking sweetheart with a cute nose to boot.

So, like, can I say it again?

**Review.**

Don't make me pull a suicide threat like my lovely ex boyfriend did. Yeah yeah, totally not funny. But you'd hate him too. Beware Joshua Munoz, o poor girls with foolishly innocent naivete.

-mwah.-


	21. For Real This Time

_I used to know the name of every person I kissed_

_Now I've made this bed and can't fall asleep in it_

_- "Millstone" from Brand New's "The Devil and God Are Raging Inside Me"_

So I got a review from Brie H.- thanks so much!- but like everyone else she was a little confused. So I'm sorry I never write things very clearly, but I have problems writings things too bluntly, or repetitively.

Harry went to Draco to say that Hermione was better off without Draco. Harry does, in fact, care about Hermione. He hasn't a clue that Hermione and Draco _aren't_ having an affair. He's hurt and jealous.

But don't think I'm trying very hard to defend him. You will see, in this chapter and the one after next, that my rage has been taken out on him.

Repercussions will be a corollary. Do not fear.

**Please review. I'm serious, for all of you that don't post many fanfictions- or those that don't read author's notes, of which I am occasionally guilty-**

**Please Review.**

**Onward to Drama.**

* * *

He couldn't bring himself to do it.

_Of all the things she could have said to me…_

Entering the common room, Draco wondered if she would still be heading to her dormitory. Although he doubted it, he strode to his room, slamming the door behind him, like a despondent teenager, with no parents to hear his angst.

Not knowing what else he could do, Draco grabbed his broom from under his bed.

He was _not_ crying.

Preparing to kick out through the window, Draco figured he would head out over the Forbidden Forest, for he had no where else-

"Draco."

She spoke from his bed-_how could he not have seen her?_ and he immediately reprimanded himself for thinking his room would be a safe place.

Draco let out his breath, losing his composure, leaning against the glass, looking back to her.

"How did you get in here?"

Pansy pulled down the hood of her cloak and Draco realized she had been crying too.

Ignoring his question, Pansy stood to her fullest height and spread her arms wide-

She was welcoming him.

And as Draco could think of nothing better to do than break, he rushed towards her, gathered her into his arms, couldn't tell who was holding who, couldn't tell this girl she was saving him.

Pansy tightened her arms around Draco.

She knew.

-

She had stumbled, crying, to the Gryffindor common room, abandoning her puddle of tears next to the Hospital Wing.

_If I stay here all night… no one will be able to find me, if I don't go to them. No one knows me; no one could find me except him._

And Hermione did not want to be found by him, she thought she had been better off running to old comforts.

She wanted to be rescued from him, but too great was her need to know who she had been just a day before.

He was the only one who knew, she was aware.

And yet when he rejected her, when she let him hear the only thing she could remember, and he had left…

Hermione knocked on the door of Harry Potter, stumbled into his arms, and cried.

Harry said not a word, holding her in an embrace she missed; she missed him she sorely did.

She said this to him, cried out her whispered woe, and Harry stiffened, delivered a kiss to her head, and carried her to his bed.

He lay her down and Hermione just wanted to cry into his pillow, he didn't even have to stay awake if he would just let her cry, defeated.

But he put his arm around her waist, whispering words she couldn't hear, that he couldn't have meant when he wouldn't listen to her try to explain _Draco,_ she tried to explain what he did, that he kissed her and held her and she knew he had loved her, she _knew_ it and then…

But Harry was shushing her, when she just wanted to cry he was telling her to stop.

So he sighed and closed his curtains, placing a silencing charm on their bed.

But even though the other boys couldn't be woken by her anguish, Harry still shushed her, still told her it was going to be okay, even though it _wasn't_ and it most certainly _hadn't been_ okay.

Raising her still crying face to Harry for the first time Harry held his finger to her lips and smiled, he just _smiled_ and Hermione was so shocked that she stopped blubbering, astonished to the point where Harry spoke.

"I knew you'd come back to me."

It was a misunderstanding; this wasn't what she wanted-

But he kissed her anyways, silencing her before she could begin to cry again, and he rearranged them, allowed Hermione to lie against the pillow, speechless and without tears, while Harry continued to kiss her deeply, pushing them into his bed.

And he kissed her, clumsily, fondled her edgy hips, running his rough thumb over them over and over again until his hand was reaching lower, deeper, and she was broken from her trance, grabbed his wrist before he could reach her, and Harry didn't look at her, only kissed her again, held her distraction while he whispered "Okay, okay" while smothering her hopeless mouth.

Grabbing his wand from his nightstand Harry whispered a spell-and their clothing was gone, a squeal rising from Hermione's covered mouth as she felt Harry, all of Harry, against her.

And as Hermione began to protest, twisting her mouth away from his- "Harry stop wait, stop-" So Harry whispered a contraceptive spell and kissed Hermione down her neck, planted kisses on her cold breasts, tried to bite her nipples, and placed his hand on the side of her thigh, pushing her legs apart slowly, slowly.

And when Harry sat up, inbetween her, she could feel his member against her stomach, and he looked down at all her glory, everything she had kept to herself, waiting for the right man, the right time, when she herself was ready.

"Hermione," he looked at her full body, the way she squirmed under his grip, and he knew she was ready for him, because she looked up at him with eyes he had not seen, they were broken because of _him_ and Harry would make it right. "Hermione, I'm here. Hermione," he leaned down, pressed his body against her until he was directly above her. "Hermione I love you, I'll help you."

And Hermione looked up at Harry, astonished, trying to come to her senses, trying to say no, when she was reminded of Lavender's first time…

"_Well, it wasn't like I could say no, you know? He was all steamed up and he thought I was ready." Lavender had shivered, the tone of their girls' night suddenly cold. "At least I got it out of the way, you know what I mean?"_

And just like that Hermione had pushed Harry aside, sudden vigor and strength in her behavior.

Harry, astonished, had nearly fallen off the bed and looked up at her with astonishment.

Hermione was standing, arms crossed, foot tapping, nude without shame, and she looked down at Harry.

"Give me my clothes."

And when Harry wordlessly whisked his wand, her clothing landing on the bed with a barely audible _whoomph_, Hermione gathered her clothes and left the room, unable to spend another moment in his presence, not even to cover herself.

In the common room, she moved quickly, only throwing on her t shirt and her panties, so that she could move quickly away from Harry.

"Hermione wait!"

She did not.

But she was at the portrait hole and his hand had grabbed her wrist and she didn't know if she wanted to slap him or not.

"Hermione I thought we were-"

_When in doubt…_

But his stinging cheek did not retard him, and only his temper allowed him to grab the girl before she could leave.

Slamming her against the wall, Harry grabbed her chin, roughly, forcing her to look into his hot, fuming eyes while Hermione tried not to let her fear betray the fire she wanted to burn from her own, tried not to allow the tears that would drown her passionate anger, that would allow her to give in, again.

"_I thought you loved me, you love _him_ don't you!"_

Hermione slapped him, again, frantically aware of her tears.

"_Don't you!"_

Hermione cried and Harry stood there, not letting his anger diminish.

And when Hermione raised her arm again, miserably, not even to slap him, but to try to hopelessly reach him, Harry grabbed her wrist and slammed it, slammed her into the wall.

And in a deadly whisper he began to speak to her as Hermione's tears reached hysteria, her face anguished as she heard him speak to her like he never had before.

"I told your _whore_ to stay away from you, that you're _mine_ and- what the bloody fuck, Hermione? That asshole has only been tormenting you! You're just a game to him, a challenge! You think he wants you after he fucks you? Do you?"

Hermione cried, faced the ceiling, wouldn't look at him-

"Have you fucked him _already?_ And you won't let me love you, when I've cared for you all this time! When he breaks you you always come to me! I told him you're better off without him. Maybe we're all better off without _you_."

And Harry, drunk and angry, walked away from the girl who refused to crumple on the floor, the girl who had to drag her broken pride through the hole to her dormitory to confront him.

She didn't believe her best friend. And she was sure, even in her state, that he was the cause of Draco's actions.

She had to know.

-

She was quiet, entering her room. She didn't want him to expect her.

She crept to the mirror, trying not to cry harder at the sight of how miserable she appeared.

She dried her face, blew her nose, and dressed herself in her most comforting pajamas, prepared for rejection.

Creeping to her door, Hermione's hand rested on the knob, knowing that through the common room she could reach his door.

A door she had never entered.

Pulling her hand from the doorknob, retreating from it as if it had scalded her, scolded her, Hermione turned to her library door.

She did not know why this had come to her, why she was so aware of having never entered through the most obvious entrance.

Holding her head in her hands, Hermione did nothing to slow or advance the memory rushing to her head.

Facing the library door, she could not remember how this would help her advance, but something guided her, pushed at her feet, until she was on the other side of the expansive room, in front of a door she knew, somehow she just _knew_, was his.

-

Draco slept facing the window, every night, always.

He never woke up in any other position, no matter how dead pissed he had gotten himself.

If he was sleeping with a girl she would be pliable, malleable he smirked, enough to move her while she was sleeping.

And yet he had his back to the window, the arms of his old lover wrapped around his waist, so tiny and frail, and he could not bring himself to move her.

He _wanted _to, he wanted to hold her, but he needed to watch out the window, he needed to be looking at some kind of future to comfort him before he slept-

She knocked very, very softly.

And as Draco extricated himself from Pansy she rearranged herself in her sleep, wiping at her nose as she turned to face the other side of the bed, he was suddenly sure that if he had moved Pansy and let himself take comfort in sleep, he would never have awoken to hear her, to answer her.

And as he opened the door and she all but tumbled into his arms, silent, broken, he was sure she would not have had the courage to enter without his permission.

But as Hermione caught a glimpse of Pansy lying in his bed, Draco's shirt around her otherwise nude shoulders, an action so intimate Hermione could feel a memory tugging at her, heartbreaking, and she turned to the library again, sure this was a bad idea until Draco caught and brought her back to him. He held her, spooned her, as Hermione looked into the darkness she almost collided with to escape him.

Turning her around to face him, smiling fondly at the homely pajamas she wore, Draco bent slightly to plant a kiss upon her forehead.

Taking her small hand within his, Draco brought her over to just before his bed, where he dropped onto his knees softly, Hermione doing the same, watching as he pulled a box from under his bed, watched as he pulled a bowl from within, added a thought to it, and allowed them to enter the Penseive together, still clutching her hand.

_Draco was at the lake, alone. It was dark and he appeared transfixed by the reflection of the crest moon in the lake, perfect, seemingly more perfect than the original, for the lake's surface was not disturbed._

"_You know," she said from behind him and he did not look, "the origin of the word lunatic was meant to be delivered to those mesmerized by the radiance of the moon's light."_

_But Malfoy did not address her as she sat beside him, allowing their thighs to touch, so comfortable she was. "All we're seeing is the light given to the other half of the world. We should be jealous but the moon tries to compensate."_

_Hermione quirked her head and it was impossible to tell if she was watching to moon or its reflection in the lake. She was unsure how to follow his point. "So we're in shadow and the moon is just a reflection. How depressing."_

_Draco quirked his mouth, slightly. "Not much freedom there, have we, to be different."_

_Hermione seemed just as absorbed as Draco had been, perhaps more so, her eyes now steadily trained on the lake's image of the sky. "Draco," she began, "Draco have you ever been to a fun-house?"_

_Draco almost smiled. His mother…_

"_How everyone's reflections laugh when they see themselves so distorted, so different?"_

_Malfoy adjusted his knees, letting his head fall onto them and look at the girl sitting beside him. And as he spoke, her gaze was drawn to his attention, surprised at how well he had followed her point._

"_Maybe they're finally happy." He said, looking at her with no joke in his voice._

_But Hermione smiled at him, allowed herself to imitate his position, the two of their heads resting on their knees, gazing at each other from only inches away._

"_So who defines you?" She asked him, nearly conversationally._

"_Experiences define me. They change me," he nearly recited, a mantra to him, "and they are not as fickle as people, not as difficult as relationships."_

_When Hermione looked to Malfoy's forearm, covered by the sleeve of his robe, she did not even notice her tactlessness, but Draco did. Sitting up slightly, only slightly so as not to ruin the symmetrical grace in which they were positioned, Draco pulled up the sleeve of his robe._

_His forearm was bare. "My father would've wanted to control me. Let me be his shadow, his reflection, but I started critiquing my creator and I no longer felt that I needed to earn his pride. The pride of a man who was obedient, a shadow to Voldemort, how can I reflect that? I achieve… for myself. My own pride is what makes me worthy of having dignity, if you can consider than a vicious cycle. Whether or not my father could approve…"_

_Draco did not need to finish, but instead watched as Hermione's hand reached out to his cheek, when his eyes closed as he let her graze his cheek, the rough stubble his younger self would've taken pride in._

_When her hand retreated, she was glad to see his eyes, now very calm, rest pleasantly upon hers, where she could regard the radiance in which they could be seen in the moonlight._

"_Draco, do you ever feel like you're getting too old?"_

_And with that, Hermione had leaned forward to kiss him, he knew, Hermione knew, watching herself- and it would have been perfect, she would've wished for her own Penseive so she could have visited the moment time and time again- but alas, she could not remember this, she could not remember what she was going to say after they had kissed-_

_For it was this very instant that had been the catalyst._

_As Hermione had leaned forward, and both enemies had fallen to their knees to hold each other, Hermione let out a scream, had held her head in her hands as Draco started to panic, as he was rushing her to the entrance hall, as she fell onto the ground, trying to push her head into the tile-_

Abruptly, Draco ended the memory, his hand tugging at hers, before it began to affect him, and huddled on the floor of his room he held her, only partially aware that Pansy had left, had left a note on her pillow that he would find later, so much later, that read _I know what she means to you. I don't know how I can let go, but I will if you'll let her know you like I never could..._ and he carried her into his bed and just held her beside him as she cried into his shoulder, cried into his pillows, his hair, and he said not a word, only wrapped his arms around her and let her feel what he wished she hadn't lost.

That he had to remember it alone, like it was a dream, a fantasy, that shouldn't have happened, worse, held no significance.

And when he reached for his wand she was reminded so harshly and abruptly of what Harry had attempted just an hour before that she stiffened, afraid- but Draco only conjured a glass of water, which he placed on the nightstand beside her, not forcing her nor rushing her despair.

And as she remembered the comparative behavior of her best friend she didn't know what to tell him, for surely he would feel the need to hurt him.

But there was one thing she could not ignore. Shifting her head into his shoulder and quieting her sobs, if only momentarily distracted by her question, she whispered into his neck a question she might regret.

"What did he say to you?"

The pattern his forefinger had been tracing on her back abruptly ended, and Draco said not a word to her.

Sitting up, looking directly at him with more strength than she could handle, Hermione could not hold herself back.

"Neither of you have the right to tell me what's good for me, _who_ is good for me. After tonight, I find it impossible to believe that I can be _better off_ without knowing who you are. That I'm _better off_ not knowing the significance of the past two weeks with you as my… as my…"

But even as she tried to define them, even as she tried to get across a point that had already been made, she was silenced by the sight of Draco leaning in to her in a circumstance that was very, very different to her previously devastating ones.

His lips met hers, his hands reached for her neck as her own slid past his chest, resting behind his broad shoulders, and neither had to make any move, any permission or suggestion, for their mouths widened at the same moment, neither knowing which was guiding, and their tongues met, twirling around each other passionately, pulling at each other's bodies, and as Hermione could feel the warmth of his arms, his chest, his legs, she felt her lips slide upon his lower lip, where she sunk her right canines into his unsuspecting flesh.

Gasping and huffing, Draco allowed for one last passionate match of their mouths before he slowly closed his mouth, eyes still closed, and he let his arms slide lower until they were holding her stomach against his own, where she could feel his rapid breath, his rapid heartbeat.

They would be going no further that night, Hermione smiled, and she felt that from that moment on, she would be able to trust him to call the shots, to know her well enough to end their permissions.

Wrapping his arms tighter around her, Draco enjoyed kissing her forehead, her nose, her chin, finally kissing her quick and full on the mouth, covering their bodies with his comforter, intimately asking her, silently, to spend the night in his arms.

And Draco still didn't utter a word, didn't label what they meant to each other, focused on enjoying the singular experiences that would assure him that, whoever she is, whatever they were doing, it was the right thing.


	22. Chapter 22

So I'm wishing I had held out on the other chapter to post today. For April Fool's. Because it had a happy ending. But here's the evidence it's all a lie because-

Come on. Me? Give some kind of calm, fluffy, no-drama/angst/soap opera material to a story?

Well I'm sorry to all those that had given up hope, that the best parts of the story were over.

I'm sorry for all y'all that _want_ fluff and fun and zomg-oh-no's-you're-going-to-meet-my-parents-and-we'll-fuck-in-the-laundry-room-and-they'll-think-you're-charming.

Cuz too bad. The ending on this one is for real, and the drama will continue for several chapters more. If I get myself some romance and a boyfriend I might have their 'make-up' scene actually be breakthrough for their relationship.

* * *

_She had come to him, asked him to change her. She didn't even know who she was yet and she asked him to change that._

_It had been too ironic, asking him so much after he had told Draco she shouldn't be changed, that he could only hurt her._

And now here she is, lying in his arms after he had walked away from her and made love to an old, old friend.

It was early, too early to rise.

He had never expected such a sight, not even when it became obvious to him that this girl would somehow infiltrate the fort he'd been holding down. That she'd be curled up against him, her arms wrapped around him, just barely barely barely touching the bare skin of his lower torso, her bare head curled upon his chest.

He'd woken when her cold hand had slid under his shirt.

And in his sexual tension he was watching her movements closely, only holding onto a thread of the idea that she was not his plaything.

He wasn't sure how she looked bald, half an inch of stubbly hair shadowing her head. He supposed she would look cute with a boy cut, not far in the future, with a freckled nose and upturned lips…

Malfoy's head, tilted slightly so as to see her face directly, imagining she was awake and doing something characteristic, debating him or chastising him or just laughing…

And when she curled into herself, letting out a yawn and snagging the fabric of his shirt inbetween her teeth, pulling it, Malfoy's eyes darkened.

By all means, he knew when they had fallen asleep so peacefully that they would not be able to wake together.

He knew that one of them would leave before the other could awake.

But as Malfoy closed his eyes and tried to control his thoughts, biting his lip as he imagined he could find a girl this early in the morning, wondering if he could find Pansy so she could explain the note she had left so cryptically- even if he, himself, had left her quite so cryptically as well-when he realized her weight had shifted and was leaving a very soft, hardly perceptive kiss upon his cheek.

As his eyes opened quickly, he watched as hers, wide and mostly asleep, seemed to drift shut very, very slowly, her lips stretching very very slowly, silently wishing him a good morning, a thank you for the good night.

Unsure of how to respond, Malfoy remained still as she let her head fall into the crook of his neck and shoulder.

Her intimacy, from any other girl, would have been a sign of how easy they would be, how easily they would fall to his affection.

Unfortunately, Hermione was no different, and Malfoy did not want to think of her as a conquest.

Because, he rationed as he resisted the urge to bend down and place a kiss upon her head, this girl was not supposed to change. She had been everything she needed and he wanted before she had ever been influenced by him, her perfect rival.

And her words yesterday, pleading him to change her and looking so proud for reiterating the principle he had tossed so carelessly, asking him to change her had meant that surrendering some kind of relationship with her would affect her, would change her from the girl that Harry wanted so badly that he had to warn him to keep his way.

Whether or not Draco himself wanted her, wanted her just the way she was, was undeniably irrelevant.

This… significant relationship, for indeed that's what it was, a coincidental meaning they held for one another that may or may not be mutual-was not supposed to change them, to develop them from the characters they had built for themselves.

But as Hermione seemed to melt into him, falling back asleep, he was sure, he reminded himself that for all Hermione knew, she had spent the last month in his arms like this, every morning rising with him.

Conveniently, she was the same person she had been before she began to see anything in Draco.

She hadn't changed. There was no gradual change. It had always been potential between them, that they should be able to hold one another like this.

And in final knowledge that he had not been to blame, had not changed her or forced her, Draco slid deeper under the covers, slid his arms further around this same girl, delivering a kiss to her earlobe, smiled a matching disposition to the subconscious one she was wearing, unaware of these comforting revelations of her counterpart, this comforting grip of reality she had given to her enemy.

-

She tried her best to breathe very, very softly through her nose.

Watching how softly his eyelids were closed, Hermione allowed her own to wander the embrace she shared with the unconscious Malfoy. Sliding her hands from his embrace, he shuffled and frowned as her cold hands grazed his arm and Hermione flinched, trying not to vocalize her disturbance when his arm wrapped itself around her waist, pulling her back down to her torso. And as he smiled, _that perv_, as her body fit against his, Hermione nearly discarded her tact and woke him up to chastise him.

But his grip on her loosened to the point where his neck could arch so very slightly downwards to plant a kiss on her brow.

And he was still quite asleep.

Watching with awe as his head slowly nuzzled into the pillow, Hermione reminded herself this was not a situation in which she would want to deal with the Head Boy awake.

Taking advantage of his slack grip on her, Hermione rolled herself over him, suffering the least amount of bodily contact possible.

Assured that they were fully dressed, Hermione breathed a sigh of relief and walked to the door that would lead to the common room.

Wincing as the door creaked, she was not surprised to feel the door jolt out of her hands as his own slammed against the door a foot above her head, so aware was she of the disturbed presence behind her.

Turning to face him, her eyes just barely open, still wincing apologetically, Hermione looked up at the frowning, infuriated, dismayed face of Draco Malfoy and cringed with a new found _fear_.

As his eyes began to open slowly, as if awakening, his face released into a much more passive, much more frighteningly characteristic disposition.

Quirking an eyebrow, he spoke softly, as if not willing to be so loud he would truly awake, so untrusting of the outcome of this encounter he was.

Surely when she was done he would wish to crawl into bed and awaken with the vague reminiscence of a pleasant dream.

"I frighten you?"

Glancing from one eye to the other, hoping to find a glitch in his façade, Hermione answered without hesitance.

"Aren't you supposed to?"

Dropping his hand from its point of pressure on the door, Malfoy's other arm reached around Hermione to twist the doorknob she was backed up against, making sure to curl his arm against her, touching her waist and arm, pressing her body against hers as he slowly opened the door behind her, slowly started shuffling her out of his room.

As he watched the slow cringe on her face as her back arched away from his close touch, watched her face turn away from his gaze, biting on the very inside of her lip as she apprehended his next attack, as she felt the wind of the opening door behind her, her eyes opened in near shock, looking to his stoic features for a hint, Malfoy decided he would not hold himself back any longer.

Finally looking down at her, Malfoy raised his hand once more- to point out the door over her shoulder, much to the chagrin of Hermione, whose further cringe made it apparent what she believed him to have raised his hand for.

"Stop coming back," he said in a voice so raw he _knew_ he wouldn't try to sleep after this struggle to awaken, "unless you're willing to break down your superficiality and stay."

_Why didn't she have anything to say?_ They wondered as the door slammed shut in her face.


	23. Chapter 23

I'm pretty sure I haven't updated in a while, and I'm sorry. Kinda.

Because it turns out holding out for a week will **not** get me reviews, which I wasn't expecting anyways.

Still, it would've been nice, because the past week has been hell.

And no one will like this chapter because I give a few monologues that really only restate the story from their points of views, which I'm sure can't be too interesting.

So if you don't like my story, I'd love to know why.

If you do, I'd love to know why (so I can bake you a cookie and pronounce my love to you.)

* * *

Sitting in the Headmaster's office, Hermione was unsure of whether she should have told Malfoy that Dumbledore wanted to see the Heads that morning.

She was quite sure that, had it been Dumbledore's intent to invite the both of them, he surely would have informed Malfoy himself.

Wouldn't he?

Hermione shivered. She hoped not.

Dumbledore, who had left after momentarily asking her to wait while he attended to an errand, had not given Hermione any hint of why she was there at all.

Waiting, she tried not to let her attention wander into what she supposed would be the topic of Dumbledore's interrogation.

So far as she was concerned, she had only lost memories of Malfoy.

And even after she had left his room just hours before, she had been sure that she couldn't be missing much.

If she was supposed to let Dumbledore figure out what she had lost…

An odd grip of fear and distrust unexpectedly gripped Hermione's stomach, assuring her that she would not want these memories to be dissected.

Trying to get over her bout of what must have surely been sickness, from skipping breakfast and surely dinner before, and from nearly throwing up when she had returned to her room, Hermione sat up and vowed to look in the library but not very hard.

Was it really worth the trouble just to get back memories of Malfoy?

Frowning and pinching the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger, Hermione tried to ignore what she herself had said just the night before, to Malfoy, who didn't help at all.

She wasn't sure why she was remembering her lost memories; surely she was not supposed to 'recover' so soon.

Déjà vu, something Hermione had never felt very strongly before, so unlikely was she to associate any kind of feeling with any situation, was now confronting her in a terrifyingly overwhelming wave of migraines.

All she really needed was a clearing potion, and, ironically, to stay away from the sure catalyst of this distress, Malfoy.

Surely there was some way she could continue her duties as Head Girl without confronting him?

It was only two weeks into the school year.

So far she hadn't had any classes with Malfoy, even though her N.E.W.T. classes should involve him.

She frowned.

_Was_ he in any of her classes?

For some dangerous reason she could not clearly remember the drama that usually ensued during her classes.

She remembered the material, studying it before each lesson, but she could not recall what she had done during the class, or how she had performed.

Hermione sighed and laid her head to rest against the wall behind her.

_I guess he's in my classes after all._

-

Landing abruptly, Ginny nearly tumbled off her broom as she ran clumsily to Hermione, who was laughing with her arms open, having fully witnessed Ginny's double take and squeal when she realized that Hermione was watching her from the grounds far, far below.

Only hardly taking notice of the fact that Harry trudged off, away from both of them, to the locker rooms, silently looking at the ground in front of him, Hermione enveloped Ginny in a hug and briefly raised her head from her best friend's shoulder as she heard an awkward throat clearing.

Ron was looking away, towards the lockers the other Gryffindors had retreated to, but it did not seem as if he wanted to follow them.

Instead, when Ginny backed slightly out of the way and Ron looked to Hermione, his face turning red and immediately looking at her shoes, he began to speak quickly, in reminiscence of how he would have spoken shyly years ago, and Hermione felt herself almost surprised that his voice did not crack characteristically.

"I don't really know what's going on, and I'd kinda like to know, but I'd also like to say I'm sorry we haven't really hung out. In… in a while. And I hope you're okay, and I'm glad you guys are good again, and I don't know what Harry's fucking problem is but…"

Hermione, glancing to Ginny as the younger sibling rolled her eyes fondly, enveloped the stumbling boy in a hug, and although his face turned a deeper shade of red his arms embraced her and as she seemed to get more comfortable in his arms he, too, softened.

Ginny, watching with feigned annoyance, tapped her foot. "So are you going to get us into Hogsmeade or not? We both know you can."

Smiling but ready to reprimand, Hermione turned from Ron, who muttered "That wasn't why I was glad to see you…" even though Hermione didn't seem to hear.

-

"Unpleasant."

Walking into the common room, instinctively looked back to Ginny-

She seemed pale, hesitant to enter the room.

For of course the last time this had occurred…

Gently taking her hands in theirs, Hermione and Ron silently walked Ginny to her dorm, where she seemed able to breathe.

Ron, who had seen her room but not the common room, remained just outside her door, looking from one far end of the room- Zeus' abandoned room, which no student had the heart to enter- to what surely must have been Draco's room, so symbolically hidden in the shadows of the bright room- while Ginny talked herself into reality by chitchatting to Hermione about how passionately she had obviously redecorated her room.

Smiling softly as he entered the room, shutting the door behind him, it was obviously to Ron that Ginny and Hermione needed to do something he, as a man, had never found a purpose for- and spend the entire night talking, catching up, and painting each other's nails.

But more pressing was a subject he wasn't sure either were ready to discuss.

And as Ginny's dialogue died down, Hermione's glance to Ron told him that she knew, as well.

With a minute clearing of her throat, Hermione settled herself on the bed next to Ginny and Ron slowly sat down into a stiff armchair- _just like her,_ across from her bed.

Taking a deep breath, Ron knew that Hermione was nearly about to tuck her hair behind her ear when some minor part of her must have remembered the impossibility of this comforting and subconscious action.

Pulling at the bedspread between her knees, Hermione was obviously trying to figure out how to start.

Ginny, placing her hand softly on Hermione's, took a deeper breath and kept her eyes closed as she confessed her side of the story.

"Harry and I were on the Quidditch pitch, and he was flirting again. I know I've said it doesn't affect me anymore, but… it does. And when I decided to wait for him outside the locker rooms and he didn't show, I decided to peek in there, just to… And it was empty but he was, he was _crying_ and I didn't know what to do. So I just held him and asked him to tell me what was wrong, you know?" Licking her lips, Ginny glanced to Hermione- who was gazing out a window, knowing the end to the story she needed to hear, to her brother, who was started to look apprehensive as to what could have happened so significant that afternoon. "And he started telling me god-awful _everything_ and then he tried to cover it up, tried to be macho and cover his tears, but I told him to fuck his pride and he, he got _mad_ and said it was all he really had, that flirting with me was just because he couldn't open up to anyone else because he knew they wouldn't accept him and that he knew I didn't either. And when I told him I _did_ he didn't believe me and then he grabbed my hand and shoved a pipe in it and looked at me and…" Ginny paused in her story, but only glanced to her hand, flexing the fingers that made the choice for her, seemingly unaware of the tension emanating from her audience. "And he told me he didn't know what else to do, that he didn't want his emotions to control him but he didn't want to be controlled voluntarily, either, said he was 'no masochist.' And I fumbled with it and stared at him but it just made it worse for him to see my astonishment. So he got shook up and pushed me against a wall-" _tension-_ "and told me I didn't know him, that no one did, and he looked at the pipe and started telling me how relying on it just made him codependent on a sadist that would never fail him, and I tried to touch him, tried to say he was right, but I… I _didn't know how_. So when he lit up and looked at me I let go and smacked him, and told him, finally, he was _stupid stupid stupid_, that he was pathetic and weak, I was still crying and he held it out to me and said…" Ginny wiped a tear in vain. " I didn't want to be so emotional in front of him and then he just said… He said 'I know.' And I… I _did_ and he kissed me and… it felt so easy to just laugh and try to keep smiles on our faces. And he started taking off my shirt and I _didn't_ stop him… and Hermione walked in and- and luckily she killed the mood."

Hermione glanced to Ron while Ginny seemed to curl into herself, unsure if it was safe to speak any more of her story.

Ron's face, a bright and trembling red, was biting his cheek and looking at Ginny with contempt.

When Ginny finally looked to him, Hermione was unsure if she was relieved that Ginny's face turned an angry red instead of apologetically miserable. As she was about to shout at him that, Hermione was sure, she didn't know what she was doing and neither did _he_, Ron spoke quite softly.

"I'm going to kill the bullshitting bastard. I don't care who else he pulls it on but _not_ you."

As the two girls glanced nervously to each other, Hermione was relieved when grabbing Ron's arm as he started to storm away stopped him in his tracks.

Turning to her, he looked down at her sad eyes and knew they were not pleading for Harry's sake and Hermione _had_ to wonder if he knew what had nearly happened between Harry and herself the night before, if he had any clue what had _not_ happened, she told herself, between her and Draco the night before.

For his eyes softened and looked to hers maddeningly miserably, and it looked to Hermione that he was going to touch her, but she did not want comfort when she felt she was near strong enough to confess as well.

Back in their original seating, Hermione could no longer hesitate. "If I am to speak directly by facts, I have been told that some presence of V-Voldemort," Ginny placed her hand on Hermione's to will her to be strong, "had taken presence inside my head sometime late last night, when I was with Malfoy, and he rushed me to the Hospital Wing. According to Dumbledore, I was some sort of target to him and while Ginny and I were both in the Hospital Wing," Hermione glanced to Ginny, who had not discussed that particular episode, "Zeus had come to visit, even though he had been missing for several days beforehand, and… distracted Ginny, maliciously, with the intent to tell her the valuable truth and then…." Hermione's voice broke, and wrapping her hands tightly together, she knew they would forgive her if she chose not to word Zeus' threats. "Draco had been waiting for me to awake, I suppose, and when I did not his irascible temper forced him to enter my subconscious via _pervasus capitis, _or so I have been privileged to know. He found the shadowed presence and tried to fight it, and succeeded. But Harry had seen a body _enter_ me, with ill intent he was sure, and was too late to stop him _or_ see that it was Malfoy, with benevolent intents, Dumbledore says." Hermione spat her last words with indignation and she was sure she saw Ginny glance to Ron, confused. "And when Harry came near me he tried to awaken me and, both Harry and Voldemort failing, was invaded by the presence leaving me. He tried to… to _strangle_ me and so brought panic to both Malfoy and myself, and if I had not awoken and Malfoy not used this charm," fingering it idly, "to escape at that moment, surely not one of us would still be here. And when Voldemort realized who he had invaded in his panic, it was too late and, so unrealistically told by Dumbledore, the weaker power was destroyed immediately. And Zeus, who had thought for sure his master to have won, tried to finish off Ginny and failed, for I, I got to him and nearly… nearly… and Snape came and…"

Stopping abruptly, Hermione swallowed and did not think of her tears. Ginny, next to her, was biting her knuckle and seemed torn between throwing her arms around Hermione and crying herself. Hoping Ron would be a less miserable sight, Hermione glanced to Ron just as he landed, on his knees, on the floor in front of her, enveloping her waist in a hug, his words muffled against her stomach, rumbling pleasantly with each deep drone.

Leaning down slightly to speak into his ear, Hermione nearly laughed as she told him that she could not hear him, so inappropriate she felt it to be to ask someone to repeat himself when he was on the brink of breaking down, perhaps in the process of doing so.

Looking up to her, Hermione could see that Ron was not going to let himself cry. "I never meant for you to have to deal with anything on your own. Never, 'Mione. And I didn't mean to do just that, that same afternoon, and…" As Ron's face screwed up, undecided of how to word his distress, Hermione wished she could have just held him back and told him to shut up.

But she planted a kiss to Ron's forehead and pulled her legs onto the bed, away from his grip, and decided to tell more of her story, the part she actually remembered. "And last night the three of us went to the Headmaster's and he told me that Draco's abrupt leave from me corrupted the memories I was currently reliving, in my semi-coma, as His presence was dominating me. And apparently I had chosen to think of Malfoy, so when he left I _lost_ those memories. I don't know if he _took_ them or if there's something more to it…" Abruptly and without reason, Hermione decided not to share the fact that things had been coming to her, these lost memories and significances returning to her. "But when I left his office Malfoy was waiting for me and I couldn't talk to him, because he kept trying to get a hold of me but he was just, just the same Malfoy he's always been, and the creep acted like we were supposed to know each other, so I slapped him… and he kissed me."

Hermione hadn't been sure if she wanted to talk about that. For surely keeping herself in denial would allow it to leave her, once and for all, wouldn't it?

But she could not fool herself.

Keeping it secret gave it meaning. Talking about it with her friends was just proving to herself that it meant nothing special.

And by talking about it, analyzing it, dissecting what his true motives were, would surely mean that instead of telling herself it hadn't happened, she could instead convince herself that, more comforting, it hadn't _meant_ anything.

And this was surely what Hermione needed. She would not tell them what had happened between Harry and herself, not yet, or at least not when Ron was already so mad at him. She would spend time with them both and when Ron left she would spend quixotic distraction with Ginny and completely ignore everything dramatic, for their own benefit, and instead tell each other what had been going on for the past week, what had occurred over the summer.

And she would spend time with her best friend and get over a relationship she had never started.


	24. Chapter 24

_It's been a while. Me knows as much._

Woot for _italicized _stuff!

I want to send out my love for this lovely reviewer, this awesome reader that just made my day.Souljewel, you're a total sweetheart. You're the only reason I'm updating right now!

In case it doesn't work, I just typed in a smiley face! Yay!

Anyways, I have vacation and am currently moving all my stuff to a new house-I was so sad, the outlets were two pronged!-so I've been writing but have no internet.

Inserted sad face. Anyways, I'm on me lovely bonso-beans computer writing this, uploading this, loving my lovely reviewer Souljewel, again, for being a sweetheart!

To answer her questions and, probably, the questions of those that don't review -insert angry face-

These lovelies WILL pursue a romance. In fact I was feeling particularly fluffy yesterday and wrote some, just a few chapters ahead!

This chapter, however, is total violent chaos. I don't like it that much. I'm trying to get Hermione as normal as she would be, had she suddenly lost all conscious thought of Malfoy not being a prick.

It will pass. Soon. No worries, baby dolls. Have faith.

Sorry I wrote so much, onward to the story!

_

* * *

_

_It _must_ be late._

She _had_ thought so, when she had fallen asleep hours ago, protesting to Ginny that she could not stay up recklessly.

And now Ginny was curled into a ball beside her, having shared conversation until there were excessive pauses between responses, laden with sleep and snoring very softly.

Hermione would ignore it. If she heard it again…

She knew spending the night with Ginny was a good idea. They were not always the closest, and after the past two weeks and vapid summer it would be thought it to be hard for the two girls to connect.

_Connecting_ was actually the easiest and most satisfying part. Both girls were able to speak and understand clearly, and nights with her always left her feeling stronger, that even if she couldn't see this girl for another week, she would be able to live through without worrying about being alone.

Ginny was a very good girl to spend time with when she needed to get over a guy, an attachment, or a defeat.

And even though she had not fully given the truth about Draco to her, had not spoken of the night, their conversation, or what she said to him, only what he said to her-

After callously dissecting everything he had ever said to Hermione to her unresponsive Ginny, Hermione felt invigorated.

Free.

Like she had just said Good Riddance to a maliciously detrimental factor to her happiness.

She heard it again.

Forgetting her discussion with Ginny, Hermione ground her teeth and her decision and turned from the door, wrapping her pillow around her eyes.

But he knocked again, more urgent and with less patience.

And Hermione was sure he would enter.

When she opened the door, of course, there was no one there.

On the top step of the stairs was a tiny piece of paper, a line of script shredded from a book.

_Victims of Pervasus Capitis are not always permanently without the memories they lost._

Freezing, crushing the limp strip in her clammy hand, Hermione questioned if it was worth it.

She _knew_, she wasn't stupid. She _knew_ her memories were coming back. She knew that if she spent her time with him she would surely become overwhelmed, eventually feel for him the way he wanted her to.

So she turned back to her room. Ready to never think of him again-

Unable to move, she tried to rid herself of the feeling.

That she had done this before, a _fight_, ready to never give the boy any attention again. _Had he been able to read me back then too? When I knew myself?_

No. No that's not fair. She knew who she was. He couldn't have changed her.

And yet the only thing she could think about was the fact that she had said that before.

That she was 'done letting him know her.'

Quite obviously, she had changed her mind, and would do so again.

Turning reluctantly to the shadow of what should be her personal library, Hermione kept a close watch on the ground below her for another scrap of paper, wondering if he knew that she would remain in his reach, wander the library for his traps, even without another tempting hint. Wondered if he knew she wasn't going to turn back now.

Spotting the next before the aisles of several tall bookcases, she tried her best not to run over to it.

As if it would run away.

_To keep the victim from regaining any memories erased, there are several spells and potions available to maintain the ignorance…_

Was this a threat?

And the next, behind a large couch that faced a fireplace he must had blazened.

Glancing around for him before reading it, she could not sense him.

_If the memories are not attained within a time that depends on the severity of the attack, they will not be recovered._

He had baited her here for this?

She knew of nothing else to do than move around the couch, not surprised to see Draco sitting before the fire, a torn book tossed carelessly aside, his face slumped into his hands and glaring with contempt at the burning logs before him.

He had thought she wouldn't show.

She couldn't say she was opposed to proving him wrong.

And sitting beside him, she noticed that he held himself back from reacting, although she was certain he tensed when she sat beside him. As if he could make a response that would turn her figure to dust.

Instead he only glanced to her and, following her lead, returned to stare into the fire.

When he was sure that she had also flinched, watching the log finally break and explode into a thousand embers, he laid his head onto his knees, looking at the very soft carpet below them, watching from the corner of his eyes as Hermione's hands pulled at the fibers, her fingers long and smooth, writer's fingers. Not a worker's fingers, ever.

"You know, you're the one that instigated this meeting."

With his head still hidden, his muffled reply was spoken without much heart. "Call it serendipity."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "I hadn't suggested your sudden decision to call me here at- two o'clock in the morning wasn't random in itself."

"Neither had I. The romantic definition of serendipity is that neither of us intended for what was, in fact, meant to be."

Hermione sighed, unsure of how prudent it would be to continue her argument.

So strange it was, to see him sitting in a posture so uncharacteristic to the identity she had associated with him. He was wearing gray sweatpants and black socks, a white shirt. She smirked at the fact that, had he been standing, it would appear that all the darkness was draining out of him. But that he should be sitting in a behavior so introverted, so unlike his ability to always seem to be taking in everything at once and hating its bore simultaneously…

Malfoy now appeared to have had too much, his arms wrapped around his legs and folding up into himself.

She could not look at him. He reminded her of someone too real to be associated with the cruel boy she was supposed to be remembering.

Sitting up abruptly, as if he had in fact been reading her, Malfoy whisked his wand and the pieces of paper she had let fall to the ground threaded themselves back into one of the books beside him, the pages flying back and forth as his whisper of _reparo_ disappeared into the large, empty silence.

"It took me a while to find the right ones to entice you."

Hermione shivered, not at his words, but that his words were spoken with too much honesty, an openness she was uncomfortable sharing with him.

Quirking an eyebrow coldly to her, Malfoy seemed to be on the brink of something she would be unable to handle.

"So you're not even strong enough to try and remember what you've lost?"

Immediately feeling insulted by his desultory tone, Hermione glared at him and watched as this same disposition appeared tenfold colder on his own face. "Maybe I'm better off ignoring it."

"Ignoring what changed you? Well aren't you lucky. You're only affected by things that go your way. Aren't you a spoiled bitch."

Hermione scoffed, ignoring the truths of his statement so she could emphasize the clichéd and obvious. "_Moi_? Spoiled? I think not, Malfoy."

Suddenly he had turned on her, and her trivial hatred was suddenly shaken from her face as he began to confess without limit, too weak to enforce his misery upon her. "Yes, you_ are_. So you've decided you're going to take it back and live without my significance, pretend I'm less than a rival, ignore me because you can't handle it. Because you can't make up your fucking mind and be strong enough to know how someone like me could have changed you. After I fought off a power that will surely kill me soon, that would have killed you, I get no thanks. You suspect me and now you get to act like I never happened." As this tumble of words fell from his mouth without grace, he looked directly into her eyes, _so brown and vapid tonight_, shaken by the power he felt roll from his choice to speak. "Meanwhile I'm left to think I've wronged you, simply because you can't make up your mind. Because you'll run to me broken but if someone else is there for you then you don't need a shoulder to cry on anymore. So I get to take your shit because you're suddenly without any knowledge that I'm a fucking human being, I can't blame you for anything simply because _you don't remember._ When you've _come to me_ twice now asking me to, to _change you_, that you _want to be_. That maybe you just want to be who you've been. But it's my loss. You're just fine without me. I'm forced to remember that I lost you, not _you_ but the girl you _have been_, a much more admirable sort. But now you've got your pride and your friends back and you can't bear to help me through this. And now I've got to get over it too, as if you never cared, as if I never cared, simply because you're too weak to talk to me like you want to. Simply because you're too weak to give up your bias and your ignorance. I'm not proud to be your enemy. You're pathetic."

Malfoy stood and Hermione was so taken aback she could do nothing but stare, gape, watch his disgust turn as he watched her and saw that she had no response for him.

Roaring, he picked up the _two_ books that he had kept beside him and threw them into the fire.

And for a moment they were mutually entranced, they watched as _So You Think You're A Legilimens_ and _The Count of Monte Cristo _exploded instantly, their ashes and embers swirling to contribute to the unbearable heat that consumed them.

"I can't believe I trusted you last night."

Malfoy, who had been so ready to stop this fight and walk away for some other night, was immediately ready to reciprocate maliciously to the hypocrite, wanted to hurt this girl more than he had ever wanted to any other.

No whore that had ever chased him had enraged him to the point where he wanted to wring her neck and choke them in the embers of the fireplace, when in jail, when in hell, he would treasure the burned scars on his hands that would give him patience, knowing he had destroyed her and nothing could be worse.

These were thoughts he didn't care to hold back, not for her.

So he landed on top of her and his hands found her throat and she was shocked, reflexes failing to the point where she could not think to throw him off, so assured that he had _never_ attacked like this, and she thought of Harry and _finally_ started choking, fighting.

Realizing she was not to forget this, Malfoy hit her head against the berth of the fireplace below her, her eyes fazing as they struggled to focus on the man she hoped to hate most.

"I once told you, whether you fucking remember or not, that I hated you for always using your heart. That you forgave your fucking _friends_ because they _were_ friends, because you got to use your heart and never thought twice about it. And I stupidly broke down and asked you to use it for me. And I can't _believe _this is where it's brought me. I fucking knew it. I wont fucking care, I wont fucking trust you, I'll never ask for your fucking _love_," so quickly he spoke the word, not regretting it, glad the first time he spoke of it was in such a terrible context as this, glad he was shunning it and not himself, not speaking of his own weakness, "from you, from any girl again. You can believe I wanted to fuck you but you know it went nowhere last night, you can believe it's all a game to me but _I'm_ not telling my little friends, and now I can't keep it a secret anymore. I fucking hate you, I fucking hate that I _forgot_ this and thought you'd be different. That even if I knew everything you seemed to be to the rest of the fucking admiring, bowing world, you could be something more for me. And all I can find is that you're hardly more than an act. You're weak, you're clichéd, and you're unreasonably attached to your foolish biased animosities, as foolish as my hatred of lesser mortals. And you will _not_ change, you will _never_ change… No one knows you better than I do now. I trusted you because I thought there was more to you. That if I knew you, knew something better about you that no one else knew, I could trust you."

And she broke in, knowing she would not let him get away with another defining monologue, wouldn't let him walk away so she could question everything she was supposed to be. "You think you're threatening me?! You don't know me, for all your arrogance you _can't _understand, and now that you _hate me_ it's going to be _so easy_ to keep it that way, right? You think I'm stubborn and I won't change but I don't _care_ if I've been someone else these past, what, two weeks? It couldn't be anything better than who I want to be. I want to be the one you hate most but it _won't_ be because you know the real me. I'm not going to let you hate me if you think you have the _right_ to." And Malfoy's face still boiled a terrible shade she had never seen, so pale and apathetic he always was, and some strange pride from knowing she could infuriate him gave her the power and courage to continue, even though his hands beside her head were curling, the muscles in his arms began to prepare for her maiming. So ready she was, to be beaten, so sure she was that somewhere he had a conscience and she was slowly losing both her conscience and conscious, her grips on reality, her next sentence was spoken in a whisper and when she had passed out she prayed he would remember it, prayed she herself could remember it and never think twice of hating him. "My mistake is mutually your own. Fear the fact that it is _I_ that can hate you, for I am wrought with memories of the real you, with your guard down."

And he wished he had not helped change her, as she insisted he hadn't, that she had hair that he could drag her off the ground with, that he did not have to rely of a thin piece of tree to threaten with. This arrogant, instigating girl had managed to keep from death for all her life as a Muggle, and surely there was more satisfaction within the strength of his own hands anyways.

So her head smacked against the brick again and she was limp, eyes barely focused on him above her.

_I _am_ above her_.

And he breathed hot in her face and wished she would remain conscious and malleable enough to let him torture her for the entire night.

Instead he relied on the fact that every shocking action kept her worthless attention for another second more.

And her body was just below him, he could rape her, break her, and never care again, her eyes for once not adamantly characteristic.

But he knew, watching her struggle for conscious hatred, that she was expecting him to.

As if she knew him.

So he twisted her head to grind her cheek into the grit of the stones below them, and her other cheek appealed to him.

So he sent a kiss to her, twisting her head back to face him, and she seemed awake, disgusted, but it was he that wanted to spit in her face. So he smiled, with his charm reserved for conquests, and winked.

Satisfied at the surprise on her face, rejoicing in her fear that may not have even been related to him, and took advantage of her hopeless shock to tower over her for but a moment and leave, before either thought of something else to say.


	25. More angst! Sorry!

OkaysoIfeltsobadsooosooobadbecausethatchatptersucked.

So here's another one!

But it's not much better so I'll probably update another one and another one and another!

...maybe. Bonnie's playing animal crossing and this shit's addicting.

All this angsty stuff- I promise you it will pass! Please be patient-I don't like it all that much either!

* * *

Pansy sighed. 

Was she the villain?

If she took him in and let him sleep and not talk, let him pour it all into her to escape the girl they thought he'd chosen, does it make her the whore?

He didn't talk to her. Either of them, she guessed. All she had to run off of was that after he had left her for Hermione the other night, he had now shown up at her dorm twice.

Brooding, sulking, he had not asked to come in. And when he awoke he was calm. Maybe not happy, but calm.

And she knew her Draco. Being level-headed was more valuable that vulnerably emotional.

-

He swung his legs over the windowsill. Holding onto the frame with numb fingers, he looked to the ground fall below him and remembered, just a week ago, that he had chosen to save her from her drop from the library window.

_Ungrateful bitch won't remember her fall._

Malfoy was blessed with an idea, that seeing himself as the protagonist, knowing that he had done everything to love her and save her and that it was _she_ that said no, this degree of rejection, that he had put himself out on a limb for her, would generally disturb him for humility's sake. As if he had chased after her.

His dignity.

But if he could just recognize that he was humane and that it had been _she_ that had instigated such hatred, he could continue living as he had before. As he was supposed to, with typical Slytherin friends and typical, typical Gryffindor animosities.

He had had Pansy that night and he had chosen Hermione instead.

With his new found determination, he was free to return to Pansy's unquestioning embrace, without mentioning why he had changed his mind.

Why his enemy had been able to change his mind _for_ him, as if she had influence, a power in his life, something he was sure she would crave for. For if Hermione was able to chastise Draco and ergo cause him to change out of his need to be respected by his equal, she would have the power to change him from her quite divine enemy to a simpering lover.

And Malfoy was sure she would make that choice. From the past two weeks of everything she'd shown him, she'd made no sign of conserving their destined hatred. It had been Draco that had not allowed them to fall in love, surely.

Surely.

Hermione, emotional, despondent teenager that she was, had surely treated him as a crush, a boyfriend, and finally as an ex-boyfriend.

These trivial definitions were nothing to strive for, and it brought a relieving sneer to his thoughts that he could define _her_ as pathetic.

She was no longer his rival. He had no reason to find any significance in her. He was better off.

Surely.

And of course this lovely girl, his pure-blooded destiny, who must have never stopped loving him, could make him happy.

She did not produce trills in his heart, nor did the sight of her crying threaten to break the world he had formed around her, and her drama never seemed to affect his ability to act as his father wanted him to.

And why would he want her to? Love was not his life's purpose, there were a million things that were supposed to come first.

That _do _come first, he reminded himself.

He could marry this girl, and he would not have to spend a lifetime perfecting their typical marriage.

She was simply meant to be his partner. His companion. His support.

As compared to the love of a _counterpart_ that he would have to fight for alone. And had he surely succeeded, like Draco only could, in taking her heart, had he wasted his time dividing himself into a singular character just perfect for her, he would only accomplish a relationship that would surely define him as codependent.

And as the prince of Slytherin and the Malfoy heir, he was a leader fighting a cause. It was undeniably irrelevant whether he believed in it or not.

All these thoughts occurred to him as he had finished up another night in Pansy's grip, letting her ego-boosting moans fabricate any thoughts of a girl that would never put out anyway.

Returning to his dorm, he had indulged in pills his mother had taken to dull her pained hatred of herself and, upon trying to quiet her screaming addiction to a gentle murmur, had let herself die anyways.

Malfoy was not on his way to suicide. He was, in fact, about to be on his way to fall to his father's orders.

Hoping that a burning throb on his arm would remind himself not to think of her, that they had given up anyways. A long, gruesome pursuit that teased him, to no end, with the idea that he could be over her once and for all. And not even sedatives, not Pansy, not the welcoming of his father's and his housemates' appreciation, could advance his attempts to forget about her, his pursuit to see her as insignificant.

So he was hoping that by devoting this one action to _hating_ her would be so tangible that he could rely on it and not the memories, so obviously weak, considering Muddy's recent loss of everything he had been relying on for reality, if he could remember something real and not something that almost was, he could return to a much simpler life.

He wanted to snort in disgust that he had said circumstances changed him.

And he wasn't sure if it was his new determination or the fact that she had found value in his moral that he was now convinced his mantra was foolish.

He was Draco Malfoy, and he was going to be what he was privileged to be. He had been in luxury for seventeen years. Abandoning his foolish father, who could die and be out of their misery anyways, would be selfish.

So as he gripped his broom, he knew that he sent that last look at his library door as if it would be his last.

Why hadn't he just destroyed the door?

It wasn't that he was giving himself a reason to stay.

For even though he knew that to leave it there, within temptation, and never ever reach for it again would make him the better wizard. Stronger.

But he did not trust himself, for he knew that in these days of relapse he was surely too weak to know that he was better off.

He would remove temptation and distraction.

And try not to think that every single thing he did to pass the time, just so he wouldn't think of her, was just a distraction from her, as if she was his destiny.

_Nonsense._

But as he raised his wand, he wished that he could not have gone blank at just that one moment. That surely, surely if he had been able to destroy their link just one second earlier, he would not have heard her knock.

Refusing to hear it, he gripped his wand tighter and it shook as his lip was ripped by his canines, wishing he could be even more determined now, now that she had the audacity to come to him. That he could scream a harsher curse to eliminate and maybe even hurt her in the process.

That if she could know that he had finally given up the one thing that bound him to her, she could break and he could never care.

But nothing came out.

And as silence encompassed them both, he was sure, he knew that if he could open that door for the last time and shout every obscenity and will-be-truth at her broken face, he could get over her even faster.

Ecstatic at another chance to perfect a memory that would serve to hate her, he rushed to the door and tried to enhance a face that would show, immediately, just how welcome she was.

And so anticlimactic it had been to open the door, prepared to break her, and have her gone already.

He was sure his mouth must have hung open, and he snapped it quickly, breathing in and looking round, half hoping to see her lurking, crying with her head against the wall or something else characteristic of the weak girl he thought her to be.

But she really was gone.

She hadn't waited for him.

And he refused to believe that this action made her any less pathetic, desperate.

But as he failed to see how it could make her _more_ antagonistic, he let himself fall, his head against the doorframe and gazing idly at an aberrantly dark shadow on the opposing wall.

Lifting his head very very slightly, he realized that it _was_ her. She was staring at him with blank features, and suddenly he had flipped.

He had been open of his reaction to not finding her.

He steeled his face, hoping it would keep her from thinking it was dismay that had crossed his features upon realizing she had not waited.

"Are you a masochist, Muddy?"

She did not move. She did not flinch.

Nor did he allow him_self_ to. Instead he stood up with all the swift grace he possessed, striding angrily towards her.

She was further from the door than he had thought, and he stopped a meter from her, smirking.

Until he realized she was crying. And not for herself.

Her body imperfectly petrified, her clothing ripped in her most obscene privacy, her hands were bound as she watched him fall, suddenly concerned-for who?-faster than any of the tears she faked.


	26. Chapter 26

First the story, but be sure to read my a/n at the bottom for all my apologies!

-sorry for ooc hermione, believe me, there's more to her behavior than my poor writing-

* * *

And he stared up at her, aghast, falling on his stomach, the gritty floor grating his cheek, unable to look behind him. 

And as he watched her, the only thing in his sight, he was suddenly thankful that he was paralyzed- for he would have never wanted her to see the look of ghastly surprise that gripped his heart in terror, watched her mutter the binds on her wrists away, silently magicked into replacement the obscene tear of the thin fabric of her pajama pants.

She removed the bruise on her cheek that had nearly caused him to lose wind before he even hit the barrier she had conjured.

All the while keeping her eyes on him.

She kneeled before him, upside down and twisted within his own vision. Her fingers found the scalp underneath his hair so gently that it was momentarily ambiguous whether she were to caress him or kill him-but her movements tensed and pulled his hair until his head was hanging just underneath her.

"Oh," she said as though cooing a child, "you're more fun when you're capable of giving in to how pissed off you are."

And as he felt his stiffened body fall even flatter against the floor below them.

Only to stiffen again, immediately.

He did not move, for she had done nothing to prepare for an outward attack.

She dropped his hair and his head hit the brick.

Not allowing his vision to blur, he was beginning to recognize the karmic realignment of her actions.

Crouched behind him, still looking to his face for a reaction he would not give her, she suddenly frowned.

"Why is it that you get so passionately angry with me, Malfoy? I may sound rather sure of myself, but am I correct in believing that you're quite nearly pissed off now?"

Sure to keep the latter disposition from crossing his features, he tried to carry on the conversation, if that was what it would turn out to be. Another fight.

Honesty, he decided, watching her and knowing there was something ferociously ready in her, honesty was a prudent concept.

"When you do something that grates me, I realize how close I came to letting you affect me."

Hermione did not react, presumably expecting Malfoy's attempt at a surprise attack.

"Does nearly raping me affect you at all?" Hermione feigned smirk faltered slightly, a slight twitching glitch in her façade. Malfoy failed to keep his eyes from widening, upon realizing she had known of his intentions the other night. "Is it some part of regime, or am I just particularly-" -she spat the word- "_masochistic_ to you?"

He let his eyes narrow, finally putting up his defense. "You're not dirty enough to escape your humility. Breaking you might have motivated me enough to never look at your Mudblood face again."

"Oh?" So stoic she kept herself to be, watching him. "Then why hold back, if for nothing else?"

Malfoy steeled his face and paunched his lips. He looked up up up at the ceiling. She was right above him, breathing through her nose, glancing between his drifting eyes. "You want to play oblivious to these past two weeks. I'll keep to your wishes and keep my mouth shut, even if you must attempt to hurt me."

Just one glance to her, her drama splitting between crying and screams. But she held his gaze, and her face did not change.

She was going to leave.

He was halfway up before he lunged for her, pinning her writhing body below him.

Knowing she still had her wandless magic, even if she was unsure of what to do to him, what with her new found confusion, Malfoy did not hold her, only made sure she did not succeed in her struggle.

Finally, he looked at her when she seemed to be giving up, raised his head only just high enough from her shoulder to keep eye contact.

It was only slightly reassuring that she had chosen on anger.

* * *

I am so sorry to all of you! 

Has it been forever yet?

And to leave the story off at such a TERRIBLE chapter! Yuck!

Basically, I don't have a legal residence anymore. So I've been living with Bonnie-i loves you-but my story was in middleborough without an internet connection! Yargh!

But hey, I'm back, and I'll post another chapter because I am so very sorry!

I would love to thank my reviewers SoulJewel (you're i fantastic/i ) and someone named 'me' who kept me smiling on what may have been a dreary existence of a day!

Thank you so much, enjoy the next chapters, and review!

-mary


	27. Chapter 27

This time he had had no choice of whether to remain by the Head Girl's bedside or not.

And so he had been forced to watch Madame Pomfrey forcibly administer a fever reducing formula to the girl amidst her throes, upon which only receded slowly to be replaced with the most pitiful sobs.

He glanced to the door. He figured the Headmaster must be on his way, he was sure that he would burst upon here and demand that Malfoy explain it all.

And he would and they would find him to be no threat and he could return ignorantly to his room, or perhaps, if it was not too late, he could pursue the journey he had prepared for before his ridiculous idea to try and destroy the door-

For surely dinner with his father, who had not heard from him since before school began, surely seeing him would assure him that the girl was as good as gone from his life as destroying the door could have been.

So really, Malfoy had nothing to worry about. He would wait, impatiently of course, for the arrival and prognosis of his professors and then be dismissed.

But he glanced to her.

And her whimpers, muffled through a closed mouth, an unnaturally tense stiffness to her lithe body- it was as if she was petrified instead of placated.

Before he could truly understand why, he was beside her, watching her closely, as he had done to Ginny what felt like months ago.

His last battle had been victorious, despite the casualty…

He glanced to the door-still stoic, why hadn't anyone arrived? Had this been Potter-then back to Hermione, and his battle gave out.

She was in pain, and it wasn't like she had any good memories of him to lose. Not like last time…

Still, he allowed a minute crease to knit his eyebrows, glancing to the door, to her cold and perspiring body, before she did something that made up his mind just perfectly.

For when he placed his fingers tentatively upon her temple, still unsure of whether he would go on with it, her stiff composure laxed. She let out a breath of a name and smiled, very softly.

Draco's eyes deepened in hurt, though he would not admit this for all the gold in Gringott's. Especially not to himself.

This might be the last action he ever commits, and it would be unrequited. It was not his name she had called.

Placing his wand to her fevered temple, Malfoy grit his teeth.

_Potter…_

-

The last time he had entered Hermione's subconscious it had been in panic, frustration. He had not known what to look for or, really, what he was doing.

And as he felt himself no longer as a tangible body, Draco focused on the motions of her thoughts, whatever trills of information would have sprouted to conscious thought, had she had the advantage of conscious thought at all.

He _felt_, inexplicably, that they were moving quickly, without patient consideration. Whatever was making the moves in Hermione's brain was searching for something.

Every thought, from every corner, was being pulled towards some malevolent destructor.

Had he had eyes, Malfoy's would have narrowed.

Had Hermione been there as well, she would have fainted, had she understood with the lightning comprehension of her counterpart.

It was not just a shadow. It was a massive cloud of black, he could tell, and every one of Hermione's golden or tinny memories was permeated with this horrific _black_.

He could not banish this vulceric ghost without destroying every memory she kept in reserve.

He had not even been aware, last time, that the memories he destroyed were of him, not entirely.

Had it been this same case again, he would not hesitate to use all of his power to end this, once and for all.

Would it be fair? To destroy this girl's character in order to save a void body of potential?

There had to be some over way.

But at the same time he could tell that he himself was being dragged with significant speed into this being.

A moment before the inevitable encounter, Malfoy figured out what to do.

He felt as though a chill had overcome him, and upon reaching freezing point he nearly gave up, for this chill had become a frost so powerful that surely, surely it could keep him there, ironed into her diminished thoughts.

But when he felt he had nearly reached the center of this _fog_ he let every strand of strength he had been gathering into a single action, a burst of fire, speed and light erupting from his very core.

There was an animalistic hiss, a cry, from this fog, suddenly burning without smoke.

Every memory, seemingly flittering shadows, returned to small foggy clouds, golden or copper, or silver with misery.

Malfoy himself felt that his job was over, and in his sudden weakness he decided he would not return to the surface, choosing instead to end it right here, for this was as far as he could progress anyways.

But he was suddenly aware of the presence of a small, insignificant cloud coming upon him, without timidity.

No pensieve could rival this.

He was actually in her memory.

He was actually in his body, _in_ her memory.

And this was surely a memory he could relive a thousand times.

Not for pleasure. That was not why he had yearned for this memory's recovery at all.

No, it was so that he could try to figure out what had occurred within her recount of this particular tale.

He was almost granted his wish.

-

_It had been precedent to that last night._

_It had followed her reunion with Potty and Weasel and their own bitter fight that had ended with a climactic resolution. That she would give him a bit of her compassion, her forgiveness and ability to withdraw her inhibitions._

_They had been silent upon reaching their portrait hole._

_After he had uttered the password, he glanced to her to see that she was pouting slightly._

"_What?" he asked without hesitation, trying to at least keep his sudden curiosity from breaching his eyes._

_She stared at these particular attributes momentarily before shaking herself of a thought and entering the portrait hole._

"_I was thinking," she spoke when he was again beside her, not looking to him but glancing around the room that Zeus had decorated, that Ginny recently had been brought into and shamed. "That we might change the password."_

_He glanced around the room as well, not wanting to wait for eye contact when she so surely would not grant him as much. She continued._

"_Because surely things are not as much anymore. At least, it's almost as if McGonagoll defined how we would spend all our time in this room. As simply unpleasant and nothing deeper."_

_He looked at her and did not let his expression change upon seeing the thought that was racing behind the coronas of her eyes, her cheeks still streaked and her eyes still a pleasant, mossy green as to the vile color they had been before._

_He could only raise his eyebrow and a hint of a smirk upon his face. "I don't think she was able to define it that simply. I think we should thank her."_

_Hermione, abruptly disturbed and shocked by his suggestion, portrayed her lack of comprehension in silence._

_He dropped his head, slightly, then inclined it again to her own, watching her through the pale shots of silver hair now fallen in his face, whispering lightly, "I think she jinxed us."_

_Hermione's face, relaxing, seemed perfectly able to see the mischief in his eyes. He was thankful that she said nothing._

_She thought something might've changed if she had done so._

_Instead she licked and bit her lip and looked away from him. Surely her smile would traitorously clue Draco in on the fact that his was glowing as well._

_Instead, she risked this moment by facing Zeus' door in the far corner and reaching very very quickly, nervously, to hold his hand._

_And, she realized, this risk had been worth it, for his hand clasped silent and warm, entwined within her own._

_Her hand had rested upon the doorknob, but he had reached with the hand not occupied within her own to twist it and open the door when her own had paused, a scared look etched upon her face._

_Before they opened the door all the way, he whispered, softly into her ear, that she need not succumb to fearful tremors._

_In less words, he had told her "Shh. I'm here with you."_

_The room had been empty, predictably. If it was a room at all, for the door they had quickly pushed open opened into a white void, blinding Hermione, who turned into Malfoy's tense chest, the fear she had held down surprising her with a soft cry that was not unlike the cry she had emitted upon seeing her beloved friend unconscious in a hospital bed._

_Malfoy closed the door and used this same arm to slowly, slowly encompass her waist against him._

_And when she did not tense, only let all of her day's tears fall silently into his shirt, the same he had worn jogging around the lake with her, their childish banter all that had been dramatic- and Malfoy let himself take comfort in her, resting his head into the sensitive crook where her bare head met her shoulder._

_He stood this way until her breathing leveled enough for her to take one cathartic breath and slowly begin to remove herself from him, waiting slowly as he caught on and his head rose from her shoulder._

_His head was just before hers, his eyes just before her own, and hers soft and brown again, sleepy and peaceful, his smooth, stony, but somehow brightly shining against the shadow their corner was encompassed in, even if his pale skin and hair tried to dull the luster of his eyes._

_And yet it was not a kiss they were going to progress into. Neither felt, mutually of course, that they needed to define such a profound moment with something so typical._

_Instead he smiled, she smiled, and, hands still entwined, it was only a kiss to this same hand at the door of blushing Hermione's room that ended the moment._

"_Thank you," she whispered, soft._

_He smiled lightly, slowly as if at a young child. "You don't have to thank me. It purely mutual, I assure you."_

_There was nothing profound, nothing significant, but it had kept in their minds, actively, until they were nearly about to kiss on the shores of the lake, only a dozen hours later, an action that would immediately precede her collapse and the erasure of profound moments like these._

_-_

This time, it was not Harry who pulled him out, nor was it the Weasley's doorstop that he landed on.

No. It was Hermione, and it was her soft body that he landed on top of with a barely audible _oomph_ coming from either of them.

Regaining his strength, he looked at her with surprise, wondering if she would be furious, confused, or…

His face was an inch above hers.

He knew, upon looking at her, that he was inside her thoughts for only a moment that had felt like a year.

He knew, upon catching the eyes that captured his quite easily, that she had just relived that moment as well.

Her hands snaked around his neck and her eyes were still blank, shocked, until he relaxed slightly and she felt his body settle upon hers.

Closing her eyes, she reopened them and he could see some kind of sharp trust in her eyes.

Speaking as though she hadn't in a week, she licked her lips and soft in the same soft voice she had last, in their memory, "You've waited."

He blinked as well. "There was nothing worthy in your stead."

When her fingers had fisted into the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him with arousal, he could hardly think of it.

For she was kissing him, desperately real, as if they had once been lovers separated by condition, and when their lips had softened they opened, slowly, and their tongues pursued each other, pulling her bottom lip through his teeth, still not separating as her arms wound tightly around his neck, pulling him tighter. When her back arched very slightly, her stomach and waist rising to meet his, his arms delved under the cover to wrap them around her waist, running warm hands over and over against the smooth skin of her back.

They were kissing without thought of what was next to do, only that their anguished drama could be solved if they were able to just enjoy this one, simple, primal pleasure, their tongues swirling and dipping into each other's mouths, enjoying the warmth of the other's body through their soft pajamas, but never letting their hands lose the grips that, more important than pleasing the other, were to offer a sense of comforting reality to themselves, that they were finally within reach of each other, not memories.

For Draco, he held onto this girl, encompassing her entirely within his arms, unwilling to let go when, for the past several days, it seemed this much was inevitable.

For Hermione, she kept his breath, his heart, his shoulders close, having spent the past several days as if she had been only semi-conscious, having to keep thoughts at bay in the farthest corner of her mind.

And now here he was, all of hers to have and to hold.

She was within arms' reach, and no longer a memory. Only now could they form new ones.


	28. New Summary!

I think I've fallen in love with every one of my reviewers.

I wish I could give out enough love to every one of the sweetest little people in the cyberworld.

Unfortunately, this chapter does not convey in any way my love for them. This chapter, in my opinion, is a crap crap chapter. It reminds me of the first few chappies I wrote so long ago that so dearly need rewriting. Worst of all, it gets confusing and yeah... I have problems with simple, direct sentences. Please forgive my tendency to rely on relative pronouns.

Sed eheu! I must progress. Keep the faith, and my wits and linguistics shall return another day!

* * *

It was in this entwine that the Professors had entered, it was from this embrace that Hermione had pushed him off her with a callous shove. Malfoy, catching himself before he crumpled to the floor, sat upon the adjacent bed and ran a shaky hand through his hair as he let out an equally shaky breath.

He looked up. Dumbledore was not looking at either of them but was holding back a smile, a laugh, McGonagoll was looking tight-lipped between Hermione and Draco, and had there been any expression other than pleasant embarrassment upon her star pupil's face she surely would have tried to strip him of his Head Duties.

But his own mentor was also there. And Malfoy was powerfully distraught that, even though it would be deemed the norm for one to be unable to read the potions master's emotions, Malfoy was supposed to know him better. And Snape was certainly most unreadable.

"Miss Granger," Dumbledore said softly, all but cooing, "I'm going to ask you, as well as the conveniently situated Mister Malfoy here, to explain yourselves."

And he smiled, finally daring to smile at Malfoy, and was rewarded with a rare sheepish look that Draco sent to the blushing Hermione.

"I'm sure what the Headmaster means," Snape's drawl cutting with a knife, "is to explain the illegal acts of _pervasus capitis_ that you both seem quite comfortable with."

"Ahh, Severus." Dumbledore, quite relaxed, with a prominent twinkle to his eye, still spoke directly to Hermione, who was not meeting his gaze. "I can assure you that, while I may have been wrong before, these acts Draco have committed are most surely benevolent."

And so the two Heads spoke in cooperative narration of everything that had occurred the past two weeks.

_Nearly_ everything.

-

And when the Professors had left and Poppy herself left for her quarters, giving them both chunks of chocolate but not watching to make sure they ate it, Malfoy was laying parallel in that same bed, both quietly looking to the ceiling and nibbling on their respective endorphins.

Upon finishing his, Draco glanced to Hermione to see that she was also finished, and had turned her head to watch him. Upon meeting his eyes, she smiled, minutely, and both stood up out of their beds.

Poppy had asked they return to their Head dormitories in silence as soon as they could, but neither planned on doing that just yet.

Not that they had anything else to do. Or at least anything planned. Just that returning to their common room was, thankfully for both of them that this was mutual, an action that finalized the end of their night.

Their hands did not reach for one another's. Walking silently to the Hospital doors, Malfoy glanced around inside the room. There was no one, not a single bed occupied.

But glancing down to Hermione again, the frown had not left her face.

"What."

She glanced up at him, concern still knitting her eyes-until she saw that his were not comprehending. She smiled slightly and began to walk away, slowly, and watched the floor below them.

"How long were we in there?"

Although he could tell this was driving towards something else, Malfoy answered her without question. "I took you in there around nine thirty. It's probably half past eleven now."

It was of no surprise to her that it had taken this long to retell the tale; in fact she seemed only further miserated by the news he had confirmed, forcing Malfoy to believe that there was still something more.

With an infinitesimal shake of her head she let a tiny, knowingly depressed smile grace her lips as they set out for the kitchens.

And as much as it was killing him not to know, the fact that she so strongly seemed to brush it off was a sign, to him at least, that he should not meddle in something that would only cause her pain upon speaking of it.

He was sure it had nothing to do with what had happened with the Professors, nor did he believe it had very much to do with him. He was sure, having found himself well acquainted with her, that she was not hoping for his concern and attention when she faked a smile. He was praying, instead, that she was strong enough to realize which of her dispositions were superficial.

Running through her possible motives to her question, he figured it either had to do with the fact that she had missed out on some precious study time… or the fact that her best friends did not come to her in all the time she had remained there.

And as much as he wanted to assume it was the latter and shake her, tell her that there was no way they could have known, not even in three hours time, somehow he knew that it had happened every other time, this immediate call for the boys to abandon their duties and cry by her immobile side, compensating for her inability to lament.

Every time one of the Golden Trio was injured, whether by him or not, the other two-or more-had been there. Even on the rare opportunity that they had not been together at the attack. And lately all Hermione had was him. Studying and her best friends seemed to have no part of her life now.

He thought of a miserable thought, slowly, that he _had_ changed her from what Potter said she could be without him. But she was next to him and trying to fake a smile, to distract herself from this same thought, and he couldn't bear to give her up. Not yet.

Hermione, who had been given back her wand by Dumbledore shortly into their recitation of the past week's events, whispered _lumos_ and pulled Draco from his thoughts, pulled him from her own.

His arm snaked around her waist and pulled her closer to him. Looking up at him with a startled smile, Hermione's-and his own-became genuine upon believing that the other's already _was_ genuine.

-

They still hadn't spoken much when they had left the kitchens, but it was not without a slight awkwardness, considering that Malfoy watched Hermione interact with his old house elf Dobby as if they were old friends-Dobby immediately cowering and retreating upon realizing that his old master had his hand upon Hermione's waist. Malfoy, who although had not sneered, had not said anything to Dobby that would suggest a friendly encounter, and so Hermione had frowned, momentarily, before regaining her sense that Malfoy wouldn't, of course, change as quickly as she hoped he might. That he _hadn't_ changed as much as she had hoped he had.

So they were quite quiet upon leaving the kitchens, where Dobby, stronger than his fear, had given them both much food to retire with.

Both were lost in their own separate thoughts, having not fully clarified the actions of the past week. Hermione's recovery, her sudden act of affection-or more-and the silent defeat of the thought that _both_ knew the other was in active thought about the fights that had turned to reckless violence--gave way to a companionable silence that neither needed broken. In place of these passionate bursts was a sense of affection and intimacy that neither, although either may still have felt the anger residing within them, neither were ready to give up the mutual affection just yet. The scare of losing one another again had brought them a slight lapse in their drama, both were taught an odd sense of morality.

For when the two had nearly made an act that could have changed them, would've confused their title of enemies, had nearly kissed… Upon awakening, they had fought with bitter brutality. And when their fighting could've reached a crescendo, when Hermione was nearly in charge of Draco's life, all in her hands, that night in the library… It had happened again. And upon wakening this time, she had bound him with the act that had nearly broken them the first time.

And somehow that made the lusting kiss, the pull and tug on the hospital bed, seem insignificant. For the actions that had taken charge and changed everything had been in very different situations… With very different effects. Now that there were no extreme consequences both were wondering, unbeknownst to the other, that perhaps it had been a mistake. That perhaps it hadn't meant anything.

These were the thoughts that Hermione had been lost in and suddenly pulled out of upon realizing that…

Malfoy's wand shot up as Harry's head appeared out of midair-when the rest of Harry's body materialized and his tangible hand was held up in mock declaration of peace, Malfoy's wand only retreated slightly.

Both boys sneered at each other in silence, but then Potter shifted a pleading gaze to Hermione, whispering her name as a prayer under his breath, a brief wave of relief fluttering across his bright green eyes.

Hermione's body shifted, hardly perceptible against the stiff wool of Malfoy's cloak, into his body slightly, seemingly repelled by Harry's attention.

Glancing down at her, not understanding why she should feel this to be anything close to a situation worth cowering from, Malfoy's hand, which had been situated around her waist, lifted to her shoulders instead and tucked her closely into him, his left arm raising his wand to Potter, who seemed not to have noticed Hermione's timid behavior, her recoil into Draco.

Instead, upon having Malfoy's sneer amnd wand thrust into his train of thought-not to mention the body language with which he was comforting Hermione-rose his eyes, again, to the tall blonde before him.

The cold glint in Harry's eyes immediately matched Draco's own.

And though Malfoy was positive that any word spoken by Potter could be juxtaposed by a cool, linguistic drawl, Malfoy was in no mood to allow this kind of errant confrontation on what should progress to be a pleasant night.


	29. Chapter 29

I had to post _some_thing. I hated that last chapter and, even if this chapter creates some drama, there's a couple seconds of physical contact!

Alright!

* * *

When Potter's mouth had open to ask Malfoy to leave, Malfoy's wand delivered a quick _silencio_ and Draco, with his now shocked-nearly giggling partner, stared at the boy whose shouts now only made him appear as a foolish fish.

And Hermione, although she now felt no fear, even though she knew that Malfoy would have to ask why she had cowered and she would _have_ to tell him, placed a hand upon Draco's slung across her shoulder, and kept close to him still.

Draco, in return, kept his questioning at bay, if only momentarily, to enjoy _this_ momentary pause, watching happily as Potter, who was trying to reverse the curse silently, was suddenly ambushed by Hermione, ready with her sorely missed wand and trying to keep up the light humor, sent a well-placed curse that gave him orange boils across his body, as well as a thrown in Jelly Leg locker. Malfoy, receiving a glance from her, joined in, if only half-heartedly. As much as he wanted to take out all his anger against the Boy Who Lived just now, he did not want to take advantage of Hermione's good mood, should she be reminded even more so of who he was, so risky had this been after she was reminded painfully by Dobby's distant behavior.

So he sent an effortless spell, wishing to remember this vision of Harry in a catwoman outfit for eternity, enjoying the appreciative laugh, full out _laugh_, a real one, from Hermione, appreciated his pursuit in Muggle comics at younger years, so interested was he in the things that Muggles considered to be magical.

Harry, though unable to move properly, seemed still intent upon reaching Hermione, though now the desperate need for her seemed much more malicious. When he had actually laid his hand upon her arm, still unsteady, she had let out a small cry and a wince and Malfoy, acting quickly as Potter reached for his wand, petrified him in his assault with miraculous speed.

Hermione, for her part, stepped aside as the body fell face down upon the ground.

Tight lipped, she levitated the body against the wall and left his invisibility cloak across his body, not looking to Harry's unmoving eyes.

And it was with a terrible silence that they continued their walk to their common room. When they had reached the dividing fork in this same room, Malfoy had turned to her with a deep, preparing breath, keeping his eyes closed.

"It should be expectant of me to ask you the meaning of your behavior with him." Draco, raising his eyebrow slightly as he watched her gaze shift adamantly from him, her callous pride keeping her from responding, cheeks sordid and tongue held.

"And while I would generally hope to avoid any expectations you have of me, doing so would, ironically, cause me to define a sense of my behavior upon what you seem to think of me, whether it should be to attain a perfect image or a spiteful one. So I am asking for my own benefit and your own, Granger, for you to explain your uncharacteristic behavior with the Golden Boy."

"Uncharacteristic?" She asked, stalling.

Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "Excuse my excessively exposing adjectives."

Hermione sighed, defeated, prepared to tell the story she had already iterated to the two youngest Weasleys.

Her only strength here was to reiterate it with a passive monotony, hardly listening to what she was saying.

The great lack of perspective and opinion from his counterpart did not go unnoticed in any way, her arms wrapped around her chest and still not looking at him.

"After you first kissed me, outside the Hospital Wing and Harry told you to back off, I went to him. I needed someone and I couldn't remember anything that happened with you and I still didn't understand." Malfoy's eyes darkened, although neither could tell if he thought Harry did something or Hermione had done something. "He thought I was choosing him and he tried to have sex with me. I almost gave in but… when I ran off he followed and said that I was betraying him for you. That I was just your fuck toy. That I was just a challenge."

Hermione glanced up, glad she was still stoic. Unfortunately, so was Malfoy. Unable to read him, his eyes stilled onto a point behind her.

He took in a quick breath. "It would seem that way, wouldn't it."

Hermione, slightly taken aback, said nothing to reveal what she may be thinking. Malfoy continued, looking straight at her.

"Well. What do you think."

Hermione, breathing without any hitch, answered in kind. "It's entirely probable, likely, but ultimately nothing anyone but a third party observer would conclude."

Malfoy smirked slightly, looking at Hermione with a slight warmth as she held her chin high and looked right at him.

"Why didn't you tell anyone."

Still holding her head high, she shrugged, slightly, apathetic, and Malfoy let out a slight glare.

"To be honest, Muddy, I'm torn between who needs to have their karma realigned." Hermione breathed, felt her back crack slightly under the pressure of standing so close to Malfoy without showing any emotion. "But I guess, considering this is the first night we've had together where we are both in our respective minds, I cannot blame you for not telling me. Nor can I blame your pride for keeping this from the Professors."

Malfoy's hand reached to Hermione stiff back, his hand sliding under her shirt just slightly enough that her eyes closed and her breath was released, only relaxing just enough to lean into him slightly.

He lowered his head to hers, the contact forcing her fluttering eyelids to focus on him. With only the slightest furrow in his brow, he asked his first question that, that night, had any meaning to him.

"You don't believe yourself to be dirty, do you?"

Hermione was oddly prepared. "If I were to listen to you when your guard is up, I would think so. If I were to infer from your behavior, I would never let another word affect me, so obviously false they must be."

Malfoy's gaze was still steady, watching her.

"Then I won't let another word affect you."

At Malfoy's too-sweet comment, Hermione frowned slightly and his eyebrow raised, expectant of her disbelief.

"And what of your actions?" She asked.

"What of my actions do you not approve of?"

Hermione smiled slightly. "I could write you a novel."

"Then do it." He answered, very quickly. "I want a list of all the superficial behaviors you don't find to be appealing."

Hermione blanked slightly.

"For curiosity's sake. I'm sure it will be cathartic for you and, if slightly degrading, a revelation for me, of what my… equal… believes me to be. The actions you don't _approve_ off are those that I am most accustomed to. I'm not promising, in any way, of… anything."

Hermione's head tilted slightly, still having not agreed to anything. "I find it slightly ironic, Malfoy, that this conversation began with your prejudice against me. What makes you feel I do not have the same?"

"I'm nearly praying you do."

Hermione, hurt rushing to her eyes at the admittance of his prejudice, nearly responded when Malfoy, with quick Seeker reflexes, knew what to say to her.

"Hermione," he spoke softly, gathered the side of her still wary face in his palm, "for the past two weeks I've thought you an exception to what I've so easily categorized you into. You may be the only person to convince me that the people I consider you to be an exception from are… _nearly_ as exemplary," Draco smiled slightly, finally able to cause a smile upon her features. "Nearly as crazy, brave, intelligent…" Hermione glared playfully, not willing to be distracted from her point. Malfoy's face leveled out a certain degree of sincerity at his next statement. "Nearly as beautiful as the witch in front of me I have come to fall for most dangerously."

As luck would have it, Hermione did not have to find a response, so quick were their lips together, her arms thrown around his shoulders, clasping him to her as he held one hand against her neck, another pressing against the hot skin of her back, his cold hand sending a chill up her spine. This chill, causing a slight nip of her teeth against his lip, intensified as Malfoy's rough hand continued to slide up her back, ignoring her bra strap as it instead pored its thumb over her shoulders. When her back arched, her neck thrown back with a soft cry, their mouths separated, Malfoy's head dug into her neck and, faced with the tantalizingly soft skin there, his mouth found its way, a soft bite, slight tug, a dragging kiss to elicit the cry, a gasping breath from Hermione's mouth, the groan _that_ nearly induced from Malfoy.

Laying his head to rest there as he felt Hermione's pulse racing from her neck, could feel her heart beat through the breasts that Malfoy was trying not to think of, held so close against her.

And Hermione, oblivious, letting out a slow sound of approval from her closed lips, held her hand in Malfoy's hair, twisting into the insanely soft locks.

Malfoy suddenly lifted his head to hers and spoke without thinking. "You're not a _virgin_, are you?"

Once the resounding strike of her palm against his cheek had registered itself, Hermione spoke with a hiss, her eyes flinting.

"Excuse my pride, Malfoy."

And said nothing more, Malfoy watching her walk to her room, an action which looked even more so inappropriate when she turned to glare at him, reaching her door, and it became obvious that Malfoy, in his tension, lip bit, had kept his eyes at a lower point than was polite.

When she slammed her door, Malfoy, resolutely, did not return to his room but instead to the Slytherin common room.


	30. Bad Chappie

Ah-so. I hate this chapter. I totally think I'll delete it.

But I don't have the heart to.

But I love the next chapter so much and I love my reviewers so much that the next chappie is fluff.

Unfortunately it is not Hermione Draco fluff. They're too angsty. Anyways, enjoy the next chappie.

You can hate this one or skip it, I know I would. At least this way I hit 60,000 words and more people will find me through the filters! That is, if they can bear to read this far.

Thank you to everyone reading, thank you to everyone reviewing!

* * *

It was her first night that her mind was not restricted. Her first night back. There were plenty better things she should be doing than spending an evening with someone so simply attached to… 

To _sex_.

And yet, as much as she now believed she was not to be affected by him, Hermione found herself telling herself not to even _think_ of him. What he had said.

And why _shouldn't _she be a virgin? She frowned. Her wording put her image in a rather detrimental position.

No, no, the question was why should she not _want_ to be a virgin. Yes, that's it. It was not as if, with Kyle, she hadn't had opportune moments. Even a few where she could've looked back on it romantically. So then why…?

She wasn't to lie and say she didn't enjoy what he considered 'foreplay,' until he realized that they would never follow up with his relieving satisfaction. It was even fun, in a way, but Hermione, despite her courage, was afraid she would regret it. Regret giving herself up to something she didn't truly believe in. Just some _boy._

If Hermione _wanted_ to just _get it out of the way_, as she had been reminded the other night, with Harry, of what Lavender had said, she could. Hermione could… could find someone…

Hermione sighed. Why was she even thinking about this? Sex was just another stupid indulgence that, as an aberrant teenager, she did not want to get involved with.

So just to make sure of her innocence, Hermione sat down and began to write a letter to her parents, as she had not done so this year.

-

Sighing, she finished her letter, which basically told her parents what they really needed to hear, that she was doing well, her schoolwork was interesting, that she missed them.

No, Hermione did not even want to grow up just yet. She was not interested in telling her parents, as many of her friends had, that they needed to back out of her life. Not when they'd hardly been a part of it.

So why should be even be upset about Malfoy? If anything, this should be comforting. That, while she had been of questionable consciousness, she had not missed some great change in him. So far as she could tell the only change in Malfoy was that he was now willing to fuck her.

She was hardly taken aback at how blunt she was, even to herself, when some part of her felt that she should be defending him. Should be in constant habit of using euphemisms for everything she didn't approve of.

And yet, she thought as a smirk crossed her face and she fell onto her bed, it was so invigorating to be honest with herself. Malfoy, should he have developed an emotional attachment for her, was still concerned with her ability to _fuck_ him. He was pursuing her so that she would fall for him and she knew of it.

But in a momentary lapse of curses, Hermione, lying in her quiet room, not knowing who to talk to, was reminded of the boy that would generally be replacing this silence; would be replacing every one of her companions.

As if he could surpass all of their worth, and such a mighty pursuit it would be for him.

'_for the past two weeks I've thought you an exception to what I've so easily categorized you into… nearly as exemplary…crazy, brave, intelligent… nearly as beautiful as the witch in front of me I have come to fall for most dangerously.'_

She turned on her side, curling her arms into herself, watching out the window to the graying clouds outside.

_Snow would be nice_, she thought.

She bit her lip. But oh, did he know how to speak to her. Wasn't he just _perfect_ for proving to her that she _did_ have a linguistic counterpart out there, to argue with.

And so who was to say she wanted this, this _attention,_ this poor replica of a romantic summer. He was just as soon her enemy as her lover.

Fuck it. They'd gotten along just fine, progressed and developed just fine, loathing each other. Saving their best insults and reserving their highest contempt.

But this entire night, the way he wouldn't stop looking at her when they left the hospital wing, after that… that _kiss_.

She shivered. Just cold, is all.

But oh, did he know how to get her.

She would write him that novel, of everything she hated, she would make it her catharsis and if he could bear to confront her afterwards, if he could bear to change or consider what she disapproved of...

If he changed for her it could mean that he was not leading her on, nor using her as a sexual pursuit.

But if he knew what he was doing that she hated... maybe he would only fake these things, to become her perfect man, so perfect she would forget that he was, in fact, a Malfoy, and she was, in fact, a conquest.

Hermione dropped her head into her hands, pulling at the short strands curling in.

_Where was she going with this?_

* * *

  
Yes, yes, she's bipolar and we all hate her for it.

The next chappie will hopefully make up for it. I've been waiting to update all week and, if any of you are interested, I'll be moving three thousand miles away from my home. I'll be leaving in a week and a half and I won't be able to update for a very long time, and I'm very very apologetic.

And I don't think I'll miss more than half a dozen things.

While I should be sad and running around saying goodbye to everyone, I feel the same way I told all the graduating seniors to feel. Get out there and forget about everyone from high school.

I feel like i just broke up with my boyfriend, and I freaking love it. I feel chirfugging free.

Right, well, this is a dumb digression.

I am quite apologetic.


	31. Good Chappie!

Bloody hell.

Ron had come to a realization, and it was pleasant and disturbing and relieving all at once.

It was breakfast, and Hermione was sitting next to him. Close enough for their thighs to press up against each other, their elbows to bump if she turned the page of her book as he reached for his goblet of pumpkin juice.

And his heart was not rattling in a cage, should there be a constriction at all. His breathing? Normal. If it had been possible to be discreet about it, he would have checked his pulse.

Ron took a risk and glanced at her. A second later her freckled nose rose from her book and she sent a soft, shy and genuine smile his way.

He was full of love for this girl. But maybe he didn't have to be _in_ love with her. Maybe he could care about her in just the way she wanted him to. Not that he was all that aware of just how he could know exactly what that bit would be.

As this passed through his conscious in a half-second, the only way Ron knew to translate this discovery into something comprehendible to the human race-was to smile broadly at this best friend and throw an arm around her shoulders, continuing to eat his ham and bacon as she rested her head momentarily, eyes closed, against his chest before she continued, with a smile still intact, to read her book.

Maybe now he could care for her as _he_ always said he did, so approving of Ron's affections did Harry seem, so willing to help him get the girl of his dreams, to help out his best mate.

As if on cue to the violent scene that flashed through Ron's mind, Lavender, who was sitting next to Harry down the table and across from Ron, quietly choked on her juice, coughing into a napkin. Ron noticed, with Keeper instincts he was proud to say he had developed, that Harry's shoulder closest to Lavender shifted and Harry, instead of blushing with shame, smirked into the scrambled eggs he began to wolf down.

Ron's eyes narrowed and he told Hermione, hating Harry even more when concern played heavy in her gaze, that she should head to class without him.

-

Ron was thankful that Harry too was walking alone. Even before Ron was told of what Harry had done, Harry had distanced himself from him and Ron had been worried. Now he was glad that those Harry had snuggled up to, Dean and Seamus and Parvati and Lavender-had noticed the berth Ron, Hermione and Ginny had given him. This enough had caused rumors.

Ron had not confirmed anything, nor did he believe Ginny had told anyone. If they had, surly anyone they had informed of Harry's assault on Hermione would be backing him up right now.

But no. He was alone. This was, as Ron had always wanted to say, _personal._

When Ron was perhaps ten feet behind Harry, catching up to him quick after delaying his pursuit from the Great Hall so as not to seem too obvious in his intent, Harry stopped and abruptly turned, a set look across his face.

It was lucky for Ron he did not pull out his wand, for Ron strode right into him and pushed the shorter and spectacled boy, albeit better built, against a wall.

It was in this state that Draco, Pansy on arm, had whispered with delight-"Lovers' duel." But this scene would become much more true to his words than he was aware.

Harry, having not noticed the two spectators, egged Ron on.

"So, finally come to avenge your whore, eh Ron?"

Pansy felt Draco stiffen as Ron's wand pushed further into Harry's neck.

"Getting your ass kicked will be less humiliating if you keep your lying, arrogant mouth _shut._"

"But I know you best, Ronnie-kins. None of your pretenses will keep my words from affecting you."

Ron and Pansy rolled their eyes at his call. Draco, wondering how to intervene and still cause maximum damage, hardly paid attention.

"Yet you _can't_ know that Hermione means a hell of a lot more than what you almost made her to be. I love her, Harry. But I know when to back down. I'm not immorally _obsessed_." The last cry was delivered with Ron's wand reaching a further point in Harry's neck.

"If _I_ am, why did it take my _obsession_ so long to steal her tight ass out from under your grip?"

As Ron's face reached a horrendous shade, he backed up, still wand taut, ready to cry out a curse-

When Draco snapped his fingers, Pansy laid his wand in his hand, Harry pushed off Ron's wand, grabbed his wand and shouted _destituo sensua _at Dracojust as Draco shouted_ capitis abrupi_ in return.

He did not know if it was her reflexes or not, her instinct to avoid heart-breaking danger.

But Pansy pushed him out of the way, her momentum carrying her into Harry's line of fire.

His spell cast astray, Harry was pushed into the wall by Ron, who watched as their strange blonde nemesis-who could never seem to act human-fell to his knees, an inhumane moan of despair howling out of him, overcoming him as he held Pansy's shoulders, shaking her until she looked right into him, cried out his name.

And relief crashed into him, speechless but for a single "I'm here," until something seemed to snap inside her that made her spine arch off of the cold stone.

With her own despairing cry, she fainted.

Ron shot back to Harry, who seemed unable to hide his delight that his spell had caused more damage than possibly intended.

"Still playing the sex god, are we? Pansy'd suck _me_ off too if I was a rich spoiled death-"  
And as a feral growl began to rise from Draco, Ron had already shouted _seiunxi _with the most conviction he'd ever cast into malicious intent.

But this boy was no longer his best friend.

And as Harry fell forward, blood spurting from his nose and mouth, his ears, Ron's knees began to shake with the impact of what he had just done, but not enough to keep a scream from rising in his throat as Harry fell against Ron, his blood flowing as he coughed into Ron's shirt. In less time than it took Draco to realize Ron had just severed many of Harry's arteries with a single spell, Harry was against the wall again, face contorted as Ron, unable to speak, crashed his fist into Harry over and over again, pounding his face, his stomach.

Only Draco could see that Ron was nearly crying.

And sensing Ron's breaking point, he laid down Pansy and reached a hand onto Ron's shaking shoulder in a heartbeat, restraining him as they both watched Harry slide to the floor, clutching his side and unable to speak or comprehend the pain he was in, glasses shattered, shards having broken his skin.

It was as Ron began to pale that Draco clasped his hand tighter against Ron's shoulder, turning his attention from the boy writhing on the ground.

"Take Pansy to the Hospital Wing."

Ron's eyes widened and he glanced to the petite girl, as conscious as a painted doll, holding herself on the cold floor, dust in her hair.

"But you're…"

Draco, for the first time, looked directly into Ron's worried eyes and saw the conflict behind them. But he didn't know what to say.

"I'll avenge them myself. You'll only get in the way."

But Ron, who should have been insulted, looked directly across from him and saw the same conflict brewing.

Draco watched as Ron muttered something to Pansy and gathered her into his arms. He walked off and did not look back.

Harry, who seemed to be bleeding only from the ears now, recoiled his hand from his out-of-reach wand as Draco, with a sigh, delivered a swift kick to the boy's ribs.

-

After McGonagoll was halfway into a very suspicious glare, Malfoy realized his mistake.

Draco Malfoy was holding a very bloody Harry Potter in his arms and his story was that Ron had done the damage defending Pansy Parkinson and Draco himself.

Right.

But before Malfoy could think of how to fix his story, Hermione walked out of McGonagoll's office, where he had called the professor from just moments before.

And at the sight of him, holding a bloody Harry in his arms and her own mentor staring with arms crossed, Hermione's expression darkened, and Draco felt his ability to lie shatter as her gaze rested on him.

Luckily, McGonagoll did not notice Hermione's exit from her office and so Hermione's internal assumptious rage was not given a chance.

"Well I suppose for right now it won't matter. Get to Madame Pomfrey's office-oh, Miss Granger, perhaps you can escort your less _developed _Head Boy to the Hospital Wing. Honestly, how could you think to leave him without a Head Girl to assist him? You're supposed to be doing these things together. Off you get, go."

* * *

It's still too short to make up for everything, isn't it?

I've got more written up but it's not typed yet.

I highly recommend a lovely book called 'Fly by Night' by Francis Hardinge, I believe. He makes me think of Dr. Suess for teenagers with a twist of Lemony Snicket. I actually stumble over his allusions, and it's a terribly twisty story.

So I guess Malfoy was born July fifth, which makes him a charming Gemini, not a charming Leo.

Ah, well.

Draco Malfoy, June fifth (1990?)

You are, in many ways, an eternal child. Your mind is bright, alert, curious, flexible, playful, and always eager for new experiences - and your attention span is often quite brief. You grasp ideas quickly and once your initial curiosity has been satisfied, you want to go on to something else. You crave frequent change, variety, meeting new situations and people. Your mind operates in a very deliberate and methodical manner and you dislike being rushed or forced to give an opinion before you have thoroughly ruminated and digested an idea. You are also difficult to influence once your mind is made up.

Yeah. I actually made an astrological profile for him. .sigh.


	32. Chapter 32

I'm sorry it's taken so long. Read my author's note at the end if you're interested-

if not, please enjoy the chappie!

* * *

She was beside him, suddenly, as McGonagoll closed the door in their faces.

Harry, slack in Draco's arms, reached out impulsively to the girl, who was not to heed any attention to the two boys but to stare, with dismal tears in her eyes, at McGonagoll's closed door.

She was disentangled from her humiliation as she felt Harry's cold and bloody hand upon her elbow, slack in his grip, and she looked at him quickly, watching with indiscernible disposition as Harry's scabbed lips tried to form the words he needed for redemption, her being unaware of the boy's instigative cries about her just moments before he was punished for them.

Unaware of the rage building inside Draco, stacking higher and higher as Potter raised his pitiful head, his eyelids drooping, a shiner sporting, flinching in pain as he whispered her name.

"I'm sorry," he faked.

And Draco's sneer, ripping his eyes to Hermione's, was prepared to intensify. He was prepared to drop the boy to the ground and smash his Italian leather sole into the boy's face.

For he was about to receive the forgiveness she would not give to Draco.

Because Potter had the knowledgeable audacity to fake what the girl needed to hear, because he had no respect for her.

Because Draco had honest dignity.

He wanted to drop him off the tower, he wanted to rip Potter's heart out and show her his true colors.

He wanted to forget them both and leave them to their sobbing friendship.

But all he could do was watch her. Her eyes widened, taking him in-glanced-in horror, is that horror-to the boy's hand upon her arm-to finally display the meaning of her moment with the curling sneer of her lip, delicately pink and utterly harsh.

Potter fell limp.

He wanted to throw his arm around her; he wanted to give her a kiss on the cheek and a pat on the head-

But no. He was certain she despised him as much as she did Potter.

Hermione Granger did not ever care for the lesser of two evils.

But she walked by his side, just the same.

"You don't need to accompany me, Granger." Wincing, not daring to see if she heard it as cruelly as it had sounded, Malfoy quickly added, "I did not mean to interrupt your convenience with McGonagoll."

Hermione sighed, looking ahead as they walked slowly to the hospital wing. To Malfoy, he hoped it was meant to be heard as companionable, as if she were to speak, at last.

"If you are to inquire of my business with the housemaster, you may often find in your questionable existence that it often surprisingly tactful to speak bluntly. McGonagoll refused my resignation."

Harry, wonderfully unconscious after his rejection, flinched as Malfoy nearly stumbled, callously readjusting his hold.

"Surprisingly enough, I was not yet curious enough to wonder of the nature of your conference."

"Well," Hermione quipped just as lightly, "now there is no need for any more questions of me."

"On the contrary, I'm sure you are quite aware of just how many questions have arisen in-"

Hermione swung before him, glaring into his cool demeanor as the unnoticed Harry was held at Draco's side, so as not to get between them.

"And just _how many_ are there?"

He dipped his face close to hers, her eyes ready to fill. "One," he whispered.

Dumb, he watched as she broke, minutely perceptible, under his gaze.

And so as not to be forced to watch her eyes flood, he kept his body close to hers, neck bent, and stared below them. By leaning into her, he was trespassing the single crack of a line that separated their two identical tiles.

As if she was unaware of where his true gaze burned to, his intent and interest, Hermione's arms swung around her stomach.

"This ridiculous position should not require the respected responsibility I've held it to be. I waste my time escorting-" Malfoy smirked, "and patrolling when there's work to be done," she huffed, then stiffened, and she recalled who she was speaking to. She glanced up, a feigned innocent squint, as if looking to discern the sun, her venom evaporated but treacherously lingering in the air. "I mean, Draco, they let _you_ be Head Boy."

And although it was meant as an insult to infuriate him and end their communication, she was finally conversing, not talking but _speaking_ with him. And however cruel her words more, to him that was only a sign of just how honest she was letting herself be.

And so he dissected it seriously. "And you would never respect a position I would naturally deserve."

Now it was Hermione looking at the tiles their feet rooted from, rather far apart, Malfoy bending to keep close to her, his size 11 Italian leather soles easily ten times as expensive as her scuffed Mary Janes, her melting venom dripping onto them.

She was silent, and Malfoy's hand finally reached up to edge her neck, her chin, her cheek, resting his palm below her ear as she turned to look at him, her tears dried on their own.

He held her gaze and thought of Harry, instantly knowing what Harry had lacked.

"I'm sorry," he spoke into her.

_Honesty._

He dipped his mouth to hers as her eyes closed, her hands at his neck as they lingered through one of the first kisses that was not committed with blinding, numbing, meaningless passion.

"I do hope it is more bearable, Hermione, if we could at least get along."

Still keeping inside their own world as Hermione sobbed a cry, he pulled her in for a hug in which it was indiscernible if either of the two participants needed the affectionate contact. Only that, by holding this _something_, it was easier to believe that they were not _forming_ a relationship-but confirming the existence of something badly abused and denied.

It was an agreement to define this relationship.

And perhaps, they both thought, they knew in which direction to start.

* * *

It's kinda short.

So I'm pretty much stranded in Commerce City, Colorado, until Mercury is out of retrograde.

I've been doing nothing but reading and, when I run out of books, which is chronically, I try to write. Out of all the dozen books I've read in the past week I reccomend King Dork, Enthusiasm, Pucker, and Saint Iggy.

I'm at the library in CC, which is where my senile grandmother lives. I've been playing scrabble twice a night the entire time I've been here, so at least I'm keeping my brain alive.

I'm sorry it takes me so long to type things up.

Next chappie we'll get a bit into how Harry feels, and I'm currently writing a bit Pansy/Ron for this chapter as well.

Wouldn't want to lose any faithful readers by going on about Harry.

So I'm interested in a few things that have been brough to mind, that, if you want to review-and no this isn't so you will-you can tell me. If not, just keep them in mind for the next few chapters, for I'm going to keep Draco and Hermione at peace for two or three, so I'll have to introduce some other sort of development, ja?

- Do you really hate Harry? I know we can pretty much all explain his behavior, so what do you think his fate will be?

- What do you think of the Ron/Pansy idea? I've tried to introduce her as not so menacing, but is that too out of character? What do you think of Draco's feelings for Pansy?

- And finally, **something that doesn't have a thing to do with the story,**

**WHAT'S GOING TO HAPPEN TO DRACO IN THE DEATHLY HALLLOWS??**

Sorry, but I think he's going to die. (I'm actually coming up with a poetic-irony deathlist that Jk Rowling will fulfill.

At one point I wanted to finish this story before the seventh book came out.

But now?

I'm keeping it alive, because I know I won't be the only one that needs some comforting denial.

Sorry I'm blabbing, I miss you all!


	33. Chapter 33

She was beginning to whimper. He dared not glance at her, even though her nails, desperately painted clear over rough, torn edges, her nails were starting to dig into his chest, his arms, his neck as she began to realize that she had not been able to pick her savior, that it was not her cool, cold Draco that she clung to but another boy that had been there, a taller, rougher sort who was beginning to sweat as as his trainers pounded flat against the stairs beneath them, the fast breath and pulse through his torso stabilizing her, calming her own fast heart to know that he was concerned as much as she, this unknown struggler, and it was she he was afflicted with.

Pansy lost herself in thoughts of only herself and she remembered why her heart was supposed to beat, quicker than his, even.

She was blind.

-

It was when Hermione stumbled, caught in Draco's arms, that Harry suddenly realized he was conscious. He would not admit to it, would not speak to them, but his pride kept him being half-dragged, half-carried through the stairwells, choosing to slowly trudge behind the two who, as if having forgotten their entire purpose, chose instead to walk together, walking silently, heading towards the hospital wing as if they were only vaguely aware that it was there that they had a purpose. That only after this journey could they be free of him, and until then there was nothing to talk about.

So for the life of him Harry was unable to imagine what they would say when they got there.

He turned to them. They stared back at him and the hospital doors. Draco's arm wrapped itself around Hermione's shoulders and Harry closed his eyes and tried to breathe.

He looked at Draco, and not for long.

He looked at Hermione and she swallowed.

He opened his mouth to speak and turned to the hospital doors instead.

He looked back at the two of them, still immobile, and took a deep breath.

"Okay."

And he opened the door to admit himself into the Hospital Wing.

-

"You're blonde."

Draco glanced to Hermione. Her own hair was beginning to grow in, the pale pale skin underneath looking gray in comparison to the dark brown stubble.

He raised an eyebrow to her but she was not watching him. He rolled his neck against the grass so that he was facing skyward once more.

"I'm not sure how to respond to that, Hermione."

"With blue eyes."

His lip snatched in annoyance, Malfoy still did not look at her. "Yes, and with blue eyes."

Her responses came quickly. "I bet it's your purity shit."

He sighed. She continued.

"Do you think it's interesting that I could never have children with you?"

Neither said anything. It was taboo to speak of any meaning or of any future.

They were lying before the shore of the lake. It was October and they were waiting for another breeze to bruise the trees. Why had she never noticed before? This was the time of year that she was working with fervor for homework. She had never noticed the trees.

They were not normal. The evergreens turned blue and purple, the maples turned white and gold, everything else turned reds and purples, oranges and yellows, pinks and violets, darker greens and creamy whites.

They sighed. It was October and the only thing they could think about was the future. And so Hermione continued.

"All of your purity is insecure. You revel in recessive DNA."

"On the contrary, Hermione, it is this rarity that gives us our vain pride."

"I hate blue eyes."

"Must you be so difficult?"

"Must you feel to be so perfect?"

It was a Saturday and they had found nothing better to do than wave off the Hogsmeade weekend.

"I suppose you would have to find the most recessive pure-blooded girl. With pale hair, pale skin, pale, meaningless eyes. Just to keep up your deception, just to have an identical heir and a name face for the family."

Draco tied his eyebrows, holding his thumb and index to his forehead. "Shut up Granger."

Hermione sniffed and did not speak as he sighed out and turned, his face just above hers, his dumb blonde hair only making the sun brighter. She was about to cover her eyes with her fingers when he leaned down to kiss her, allowing her eyes to close and block out the sun themselves.

"My father is sterile," he whispered.

Hermione looked up. Draco had his wand in hand and held himself up on his elbow, more on top of her than before.

Muttering a word unfamiliar even on his own ancient tongue, Malfoy closed his eyes and gripped his wand, a tension gripping his previously placid face.

He leaned down to kiss her again and she could feel the scream that almost tore his lips from hers.

He pulled away and she opened her eyes to the boy that sat atop her.

He was gorgeous, in his own imperfect, fractured way.

Hermione screamed and shoved him off of her. Her feet slid in the mud as she tried to run away and Malfoy gripped her ankle violently, pulling her face first into sticks and leaves. His other hand grabbed her shoulder, pushing her into the dirt as her head whipped away from him, with his other hand he pinned down her waist.

"Hermione!"

She slapped him, watching the almost Malfoy-like shock cross his face. It wasn't good enough. Even as his small arm tried to knock away her wrist, Hermione slapped him again, screaming for good measure when he landed atop of her.

It was the perfect time for someone to save her from this stranger, this pursuing creep.

But Malfoy kissed her again.

And even as a presumed stranger, Hermione fell into it, the same comforting kiss as ever, the same boy who needn't tune into her frequency. Malfoy's hands, soft and infantile, almost uncomfortable as being a sudden teenager, gripped the back of her neck as Hermione tangled her own fingers into the soft light hair that fell to his shoulders.

He pulled away, feeling that Hermione was stabilized.

She looked up at him. He had dark gray eyes and a roman nose, a rounded chin.

She closed her eyes. She couldn't bear to see, couldn't care to understand.

His voice was deeper. She didn't know if she liked it.

"Hermione, I'm sorry." neither was adjusted to his voice. "I found out years ago and I couldn't bear to live with this."

Hermione said nothing and kept her eyes closed.

He sighed. "My mother couldn't leave my father. His family chose her. His fucking incest family chose her." Malfoy spat into the grass and Hermione opened her eyes to see that he was not looking at her. Feeling she could handle it so long as she did not meet his gaze, she sat up next to him, holding her knees as they looked into the lake.

"And so my father got to choose my real father."

He glanced at Hermione. "Don't start thinking I'm a fucking half blood. A muggle would have suffered an even worse death." The new Malfoy closed his eyes. Hermione looked away. It was too much. He had all the same factual genetics that would get him pointed out in a police station. He fit the description.

But to Hermione he looked nothing the same. His eyes and hair were darker but it was the rest of his face that made him a stranger.

"And so a suitor was found. He had my mother bring him to the house and seduce him while my father watched. When the man was done my father cursed him dead and fucked my mother one last time."

"So that he could always have the doubt that he wasn't sterile. That maybe your were his own son after all." Hermione said.

Malfoy sighed. "They tried everything. At first I think... I think they actually wanted a child. They got desperate. They wanted an heir and that was their priority, not raising it. I was born, I was charmed, and I became their _only child_."

He was scrawny. Unused.

"I don't believe you." She whispered. She didn't even want him to hear her.

"Hermione... I hated this." He pressed his new fingers against his new face. "I couldn't deal with it and because of that I grew adapted to my deception. I grew into it. I worked out, paid attention to my parents. I found out a year before I came to Hogwarts and it was only when I found out that I was not perfect that I truly wanted to be their protégé. I no longer wanted to be their child, any child; I didn't care for them to care for me. I dismissed my own nanny. It was when I came to this school that I was easiest to mold. And now I can't even deny it. I made my choice."

Hermione said not a word and Malfoy grabbed his wand.

Circling her palm around his wrist, Hermione leaned into him and laid the smallest kiss upon his lips. When she opened her eyes his were still closed, kept in the moment before.

"Someday," she whispered, "I don't want any of your faces to be alien to me."

"Someday," he croaked, "they'll pay for doing this to me."

Hermione smiled pityingly, glad that he could not see her.

He sighed and waved the wand upon himself, to wait until they could bear it again.

He opened his eyes, that terrible light blue again, his lips cracked in a tiny smile as Hermione's face soothed into him, her consistency as she ran her fingers from his cheek to his neck.

His arms wrapped themselves around her, pressing into her tightly, his anguished face pushed into her shoulder as she pulled even tighter.

Hermione shuddered a little as the wind blew by and Malfoy held her tighter. He shifted his head so that his mouth was almost into her neck, just below her ear.

"I love you," he breathed.

He could feel her hopeless smile against his shoulder. She held him tighter, raising her head only a minute.

"I love you too, Draco."

* * *

i know i said i would go into harrys feelings. i know i said i would write pansy/ron.

but i think i needed this to get me back on track.

im sorry it took so long, but you will all see much more soon.

if youre interested i was assaulted the other night and for some reason the fact that we got our windows smashed open with a pipe while we were driving away gave me incentive to write.

much love

mary


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